Fable: A Hero's Tale
by Lithaldoren
Summary: Ayleth was just a young woman who lived her whole life stuck in a Castle. Wynter was a high class woman who only knew of the luxury in Millfields. Albrecht was just a man who couldn't remember anything. What does fate have in mind for the three?
1. Enter Ayleth

Chapter One; Ayleth

Jasper had awaken Ayleth from pleasant dreams where she and Elliot sat by Bowerstone Lake in Millfields where they watched the sun set. He had done so by opening up the large window which over looked the back gardens of Bowerstone Castle. In her dream the sun had been setting not beaming down from mid-sky into her face. Now she had to deal with the trivial tasks such as dressing. With a sigh she took her elegant princess gown with her behind the screen at the back corner of her room and changed while Jasper told her how the day was certain to be a lovely one. As she stepped out from the screen Jasper was adjusting his white gloves. "How marvelously acceptable your attire is for this fine day. Master Elliot is sure to be pleased. Your brother as well I might add."

Ayleth pinched at the bridge of her nose. "Logan has no right to dictate my clothing! I am of age now. It is my birthday after all." She quickly crossed over to her vanity and began to do a quick brush up of make-up. The only thing she had wished for that night had been that she would have her first kiss. She had made the wish as she blew out the last candle in her room as soon as the clocks struck midnight.

Jasper nodded. "Your brother, His Highness, dictates many things. Why should clothing not be one of them?" The man said this in his usually cool tone, but Ayleth heard the humor behind his words and she did not mask the sudden giggles that came from such a witty remark. "All joking aside, I do believe Master Elliot has waited for quite some time now and-"

"Right! Thank you so kindly, Jasper!" Before fleeing, Ayleth gave the worn servant a warm hug and peck on the cheek before dashing out the door for the gardens.

Just as was promised Elliot was wandering about the flowers, bending down every few steps to take in the different aromas. His stay had allowed him the time to lap the gazebo more than twenty go-rounds. From the walkway over the back entrance Ayleth watched and her playful personality began to flare. Quickly she descended the stone steps and out into the open area just before the gardens. Several servants and guards approached her in the time it took for her to sneak behind a hedge, asking if she was feeling alright as she crouched and crawled, even while wearing a gown. She rolled her eyes and shooed them away.

Elliot had spent a great deal in waiting for Ayleth to come so that he might confess his feelings for her. His fingers twitched every time they got close to his breast pocket. "Maybe she's tired of you," he breathed dejectedly. Princesses seemed to be quite fickle, he thought.

From behind Ayleth shook her head at Elliot's observation. Slowly she wrapped her arms around his waist and placed her head in the area between his neck and shoulder. "Yes, I am tired of you... tired of you not being here nearly enough."

The poor young man had froze in terror when he first felt the presence of someone coming up behind. He had been almost certain that it was Natalie, one of the maids. Natalie had always had an eye for him, often getting close enough to pinch his cheeks and not those on his face either. He shuddered at the thought, but now he knew it was his Ayleth and he felt his body lose its rigidness. Ayleth let go of his midsection and Elliot turned around to face her. What he saw was a further surprise. He noticed she was not trying to dress like one of the servants. Her face was lightly dusted with white powder and her eyelids darkened by a few shades. Ayleth had never been the kind of girl who "prettied-up". _If you can't accept me for how my face looks without make-up then you don't deserve me with make-up, _he remembered her always saying.

"I was getting a little worried that you had forgotten me," Elliot stated. Then he took her hands in his and placed a kiss on top of both.

Ayleth turned red even though it could not be seen since she had decided on wearing the retched face-paint. "Not at all," she whispered. She wanted to prematurely reveal her secret._ Oh how I want nothing more than true loves kiss. _

Since the pair had both been very young everyone about the castle had cooed over them about what a cute couple they were. Whenever the boy would come over Ayleth made sure everyone knew that he was strictly hers. Her parents both had to make sure she knew that Elliot was not a toy, but the boy followed her like a lost duckling and played all of the games which she commanded. They would run about the halls holding hands and hiding from all of the adults.

Ayleth took his hands and began to pull him toward the back of the gardens. Elliot had gone limp like a ragdoll as she pulled him along. As they stopped and stood Ayleth did not fail to notice that for some reason the sky had become a lot darker. It should not have been this dark, not on her birthday.

She put the negative feeling aside, because she had Elliot beside her now. Down the hill below them the town looked bright and magnificent. _The time has come_, Elliot thought to himself. He inconspicuously reached into his pocket and held his surprise in a tightly clinched fist, certain that a ring shaped crevice would make a permanent feature in his palm. "Ayleth, I was thinking about how long we have known each other. We've sort of been together like a couple since I can remember. I thought now was a great time... I wanted to..."

Before he could show her anything she was already beaming at him. With a shriek she stated, "Yes!" He pursed his lips nervously. Suddenly her lips were pressing firmly against his. His eyes had widened in shock, but he found himself even more enamored with her than before.

Blushing, even through the pale make-up, Ayleth broke away. "Elliot," she said softly.

Elliot's face was even redder and he could feel the heat pulsing from his cheeks. Before he could take Ayleth's hand a servant came rushing toward them. He stopped just a few feet from them. "Miss... Miss..." he panted. "The servants are rioting in the kitchens."

Ayleth felt a little disheartened that she had to put on her authoritarian mask. "Why ever so?"

He gave a weak shrug "I believe your brother, His Highness, has riled them up."

As if Logan would even go down to the kitchens to rile the servants up, Ayleth sighed. For the past week even she had not seen her brother in the slightest, not even on her ventures through the castles, which did not fail to take her to some of his more guarded rooms. "Come now, Elliot. Let us see what the ruckus is."

Even though he was feeling a little put out about his inability to propose thus far, Elliot nodded a little stupidly as he had remained on his high from the kiss. Ayleth took a hold of his hand once more and dragged him after her up to the kitchens; it had its own entrance since The Help was not supposed to be as privileged as the castle dwellers. Ayleth could possibly see what the problem was now that she thought on it. Instantly upon arrival she saw one of the cooks, by the name of Thomas, was on the center table preaching. "We have been under paid and underappreciated for far too long," Thomas yelled. Several of the servants cried out in agreement.

"What is this fuss?" Ayleth demanded.

Everyone in the room instantaneously quieted. Thomas froze from his improvised platform. "M-M-M'lady!"

"Do you not cook on that table?" the princess asked sternly placing her free hand on her hip.

"We are... are striking until we are treated fairly!"

Elliot pressed his thumb into Ayleth's palm, to get her attention and calm her. "Everyone has been a little upset lately with your brother, His Highness... Maybe you should speak to your workers."

Ayleth nodded her concurrence. At first her voice was a little shaky, but she recovered fast enough. She did not suspect any of them took noticed. Now it was her time to show she was no longer Little Princess Ayleth... No she was Miss Ayleth the wise one of age and adult opinion! "You all may not get treated as fairly as you would like..." so far so good, "but you are employed! You do get paid more than those people working down in those filthy taverns! Just stay out of the line of fire and my bro-" she stopped herself. _Stay professional!_ "King Logan would appreciate it if you stayed off his bad side. This would make him less likely to bring his wrath down upon you if you only just served him how he asked."

She could tell by the odd looks and sniffling from the maids that her speech may have actually caused more harm than good, but what did she know about speeches? She had never given one! The only talking she ever did with the servants was telling them not to follow her and ask what she wanted. She never desired anything and if she did she could get it perfectly fine herself! Or Jasper would get it. She had always thought of him as almost a grandfather and did not care to ask him for help either unless she had no other choice. However, what really set him apart was how he would do things without her asking. It was on several occasions that he did things she was sure she had made no hint to and no one would have guessed she'd wanted said things. She asked him sometimes, when it was just the two of them in the sitting room, if he wasn't a mind reader and he would give a faint chuckle and roll his head to the side like it was a preposterous notion. Ayleth did not fail to notice that he never said "No".


	2. Enter Wynter

Chapter Two; Wynter

Millfields was a quiet section of Albion where all of the residence resided in over the top houses which got their hefty costs from their positioning around the lake. For the last year Wynter had been living with her uncle, Arthur, who was known throughout Albion as the man who said nothing but rude criticisms to all he met. As of the current Uncle Arthur was hosting a very large get together for all of the upper class men and women. It was going on both inside the house and out in the yard with everyone sitting in little clichés and gossiping about the surrounding clichés.

Wynter had gone outside around noon, when everyone began to show up unbelievably early so they could comment on how "such-and-such" was late. She liked it better outside anyway because it meant she could slip behind the house if people started to get too close (such as men trying to woo her). At every chance Uncle Arthur would question when her on when she planned to get married so that she could be some other man's problem. "_You are twenty-three years old! I knew girls who got married at thirteen. You can't let little thirteen year olds beat you at something like that_," he had said on one occasion. There was even a time where he offered to give her one of his maids if she married within the week of the offer. She did not get married as it goes.

There were two women, with their unusually high hair (being that it was fake), standing under one of the trees in the yard with wine glasses cradled in their hands. They were talking. "I heard Mister Reaver was going to be coming," one stated, then took a sip from her glass.

Her friend shook her head. "Oh no, no, no! He would never show up to someone else's party! He has his own little parties once a week back at his manor. There is no chance that he would bother with this small a party. There isn't even entertainment!"

The first woman furrowed her brow in thought. "But how could he pass up a chance to rub elbows with the high class around him? Millfields is a place for the elite!"

Her friend glanced around a little timidly to make sure there were no snooping eavesdroppers. "He's working for King Logan, His Highness. He doesn't need to worry about us citizens when he could be rubbing elbows with the King himself!" She lifted her eyebrows so high that Wynter suspected they would disappear into her hairline as she made the remark, "He's such an odd fellow." Even if she thought he was strange she seemed to know an awfully lot about this Mister Reaver.

Now, Wynter could say that she had never met Mister Reaver and she could unquestionably declare that she had never had the urge to meet him either! All that she did know of the man was that he lived over on the far side of the lake in the largest manor.

Everyone continued conversing and gossiping as the evening dwindled into twilight. Some of the guests had had a few drinks too many and went home hanging off of their friends. Uncle Arthur was standing on the path before his home and waving each one off with a slurred, "G'Night". Wynter shook her head thinking about how many people may still be inside of the house. Most would be passed out on the couches and possibly the floors, of this there was no doubt. The way Uncle Arthur staggered up the walkway to his house told her he would soon be one of those people.

The women from the tree had moved their private party to a stone bench by the path and they had also refilled their glasses. Wynter wondered what it was they could possibly be discussing now. She moved toward one of the trees and nonchalantly leaned against it. Before she could hear what it was they had been saying one of the women dropped her glass and the other let out an ear-bloodying shriek. Her arm flew up and her finger pointed down the way where two figures were drawing closer and closer. Wynter froze thinking about if she had a clear shot to the house if those figures happened to be bandits. However, before she had the chance to flee, the pair was close enough for her to see that one was dressed a tad too sophisticatedly to be any sort of bandit.

The figure was a tall man with an even taller top hat. He carried a long shiny cane in one hand while the other fluttered about as he spoke to the figure lurking behind him. The women on the bench jumped up and bowed as he began to cross before them. They fanned themselves with their gloved hands. The man stopped right in front of them and his companion came to a stop by his side, he was holding an arm full of rolled paper. "Good evening, Ladies. It seems as if tonight will be positively delightful for a small stroll about the lake."

Wynter assumed that this was his way of inviting the women to follow him to wherever his destination may be, a place where rolls of paper were required. Her main question was whether or not they _would_ follow. This man seemed exceptionally rich and had the air of someone who looked down on everyone or maybe she got that idea from the way he had his head cocked back so that he had to look at the women from down his long nose?

"Indeed it is, Mister Reaver!" One said while the other stood at her side giggling like some teenager with a crush, hiding her face by turning her head to the side.

Wynter kept her eyes in between them so she could see small bits of all four people. This may have been what caused for her to miss the man's turn of attention onto her. "May haps you wish to join us?" he called back to her. She knitted her brows together in confusion. "Yes you girl. I see your eyes traversing over our beings."

Blinking because she had missed the initial inquiry and it was only just now sinking in that this was 'The Mister Reaver' which the women had been speaking of earlier. Women swooned over this pasty skinned man? Of course his pasty skin was a symbol of how he needn't work outside and labor over physical tasks, but it made him look a little sickly, she thought. All four persons were watching as she sorted through her thoughts. Finally when her mind stopped skipping around she answered, "No. I must stay and tidy up from this day's festivities!"

Reaver did not beg for attention. In fact, he did not even care if anyone gave him any. It just seemed natural for most people to flock to him and when one person declined he didn't give it any thought. He simply started back on his leisurely stroll down the road. The woman left their glasses by the bench and trotted off after Mister Reaver. The scroll carrying companion gave her one final look while he chewed at his bottom lip and his eyebrows had fallen so low, his eyes were completely cast in shadow.

After they vanished from view completely Wynter finally moved toward the bench and took up her uncle's expensive wine glasses. No party goers remained outside the house and the door to the house was closed for the first time that day. Several stars had began to form up in the sky and reflected down in the lake, where fireflies floated over its surface glowing in mimicry. For the first time in a long time Wynter finally felt like she could let the tensions of life leaver her overly stressed mind.


	3. Enter Albrecht

Chapter Three; Albrecht

"As dark as the night. Black as the sky where the sun never shines, that was how dark it was," said the gruff voice. His eyes stared up at the star filled sky. He couldn't remember where he'd seen such darkness. All he knew was that every time the sun set he would stop wherever it was that he stood and call it a day. The sun had set at least ten times since his first memories. Sometimes it got a little scary not knowing who he was. The first memory he had of anything was of him standing knee deep in funny smelling water. His mouth had been plenty dry at that moment too, but even when he didn't know hardly anything at the time, he knew that it was not what he wanted to be drinking.

The only thing he'd had with him when he "awoke" (which was what he called when he first remembered anything at all) was the clothing he wore, with pistol and sword in their designated place, and a circular disk had been in his hands. It was a little more than a disk- he knew that for sure, but at the same time wasn't sure what more exactly. He did feel guilty whenever he used it as a plate for when he killed rabbits and shot down crows for food. He'd travelled a long way and in his travels he had stumbled upon old and worn chests. They sat off from the paths where most would tread. Maybe before he'd lost all his memory he had been an explorer? Regardless of what he had been at one point, inside of the chests he'd scraped up a small sum of gold and even found several articles of clothing.

He wished that he had a map because he was most assuredly lost, but it did not really matter at that exact second since there was no sun and he was not about to budge. He sat down on the ground and felt the cold grass even through his britches. Using his spare trousers, he rolled it up as a pillow and laid back on it with the earth as his bed and sky as his ceiling. He had to be an adventurer or this wouldn't be nearly as amazing feeling, he told himself before drifting off.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when he opened his eyes it was rather bright. It wasn't a sunny day sort of bright. It was more like a grey foggy kind of bright. The grass he had fallen asleep on was no longer beneath him and his trouser-pillow was also missing. All he could see was a strip of dirt leading up to a gate. Also there was no land on either side of him, that, or the fog was doing a grand job at completely obstructing everything except for the path.

How long had that woman been standing there at the gate? He didn't recall seeing her there before. "Hello?" he asked, squinting to make sure he was seeing things correctly.

The woman shifted from one foot to the other and crossed her arms. Her head was covered by a hood, not that it looked like she was watching him anyway. "Hello," she answered. "Things seemed a little bleak for a while. I am glad to see you survived."

Had he almost died then? How did she know? Did he lose his memories after a fight only to black out and wake up knee deep in funny smelling water? Maybe he should ask her, she did seem to know something. "Excuse me asking, but what happened? Who are you? Do you know who I am?" He was sure if he was given the chance he would ask a thousand more questions, but the woman raised her hand to stop him.

"You came close to fixing what will soon be plaguing all of Albion. My name is Theresa. Now, as for everything else you wish to know, I believe it maybe more important, and of best interest, if you forget who you were and think only of what you are going to become."

He watched her with great intensity. What was that supposed to mean? Forget who he was? He had already proven that he could do that when he woke up knee deep... in that water. He shook his head hating the feeling of only knowing what happened ten days ago and onward. He didn't like only having ten days worth of memories to sort through. It wasn't much to think back on and a little disheartening. Albion? Was that the name of this dirt path? The woman, or rather Theresa, came closer, but he stepped back. "Who am I supposed to become then?" he questioned coldly.

Theresa stopped her advance. "You are a hero. The good news is that you are not alone in this battle. You shall go to the tomb at Bowerstone Castle. It is there where you shall recruit your first helper who will be discovering their own power. I must insist that you act quickly, for there seems to be conflicting feelings which may get in the way." She paused only to lift her head and stare him in the face. She had deep wrinkles about her eyes and the corners of her lips, but she still seemed younger than she could truly be. Her eyes stared out at him all clouded in fog, like that which surrounded them. "You must go now."

He had a final question. He needed this one answered most. "One last thing!"

Theresa nodded. "Fine."

"What is my name? It's the least I could be told right?"

Theresa's lip twitched into a small weak smile. "You have been given the opportunity to chose who you will be. It only seems fitting that you chose your own name."

Before he could retort he was lying on the ground with his head on the trousers and the grass around him soaked in morning dew making it all the more cold. He sat up with a start wondering if it were not just a dream. For a dream it had seemed rather specific. His brain could have just been making things up for the sake of keeping himself happy.

He grabbed up his trousers and unrolled them looking on the inside. Stitched right into the waistband was the name Albrecht. There was the answer that he'd wanted; from now on he'd tell those he met that his name was Albrecht. He let out a deep chuckle about where he'd found his name, but it was still a name all the same.

From the corner of his vision- as he stared at his pants- he noticed a light radiating from around his feet. He followed the light with his eyes and noticed it was like a trail of gold leading out of the forest. Was he supposed to follow it?

"Albrecht, it is time to start your adventure," he said calmly. He followed the glowing trail.

Albrecht did not rest that day and it took him the entirety of said day for him to get to the large structure that was called Bowerstone Castle. He'd fought several bandits on the way and found a few more chests. He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out the shimmering silver key he'd found floating behind a tree. Adventurers sure did find the coolest treasures, he thought. The sun was setting and he knew that this would be the first time that he did not stop and rest for the night. Theresa had told him that he needed to find the other hero or else they may not help. The trail seemed to be something only he saw because when he'd gone through the Old Quarters no one else was following it or even looking at it, but he was sure that he was a sight as he ran up the roads staring at the ground.

He walked up to the front doors of the castle and one of them men dressed in uniform pulled out his rifle and pointed it directly at Albrecht's chest. "Sorry Sir, but the castle isn't exactly open to the public."

Albrecht hadn't foreseen any obstacles; the glowing trail went under the large doors. He assumed he could enter just as well and as easily. "Oh? I am very sorry. I did not mean to trespass." To show he was sincere he stepped backwards down the steps and bowed.

The guard lowered his gun. "It's not a problem, Sir. Just please remember to stay down in the court."

Albrecht turned and began to walk away when a voice whispered in his ear. It was chilling and made his spine tingle, goose-bumps form over his arms. "You should just give up. You aren't going to make it to the tomb on time. That hero is a lost cause... Turn back while you're ahead." Albrecht placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. Who would dare get so close to him and talk right into his ear, but as he looked around him there was no one within several meters. The closet person was a guard standing up against a pillar and he didn't look like he was doing much talking.

Silently, Albrecht murmured, "Who said that?"

"The voice of reason," it hissed like it was right there behind him. "You aren't going to get to the tomb. When you do the hero will have made their decision and they won't help someone like you. Worry about yourself and save your own skin while you still can, Albrecht."

Albrecht eyes darted every which way in search of whoever was saying these things. He turned a full circle and nothing. One of the guards had noticed this strange behavior and began to approach him, but before he could Albrecht felt his face growing hot like he was getting the fever and like some sickly puppy staggered back, knocking into the guard. "Sir, are you alright?"

Albrecht tried to regain his composure, but he only felt worse as the minutes ticked by. "I don't feel too well to be truthful." His breath came out so cold. Was he shivering?

The guard wrapped an arm around him and let him lean into his shoulder for support. "I will see if we have a doctor on staff at the moment. Come on, Sir. I will need your help taking you up the steps."

Even though he had began to feel rather dreadful, he noticed that he was getting closer to the doors of the castle. The guard who had originally told him to leave was watching with slight concern in his dark eyes as he was carried passed. Albrecht would have laughed at him... He blacked out for a second, but when he could see again he was sitting on a chair in a small room.

_You're in, Albrecht... now you just need to find that tomb..._


	4. The Tomb

Chapter Four: The Tomb

Had this been any other time then Sir Walter Beck would have been cracking jokes about the numerous times he had rescued a damsel and held her over his broad shoulder. Now was not one of those times and he peered at girl who was currently hanging limply over his left shoulder. It was actually a pitiable sight. The Princess had never been so quiet before in all her life. He remembered the days where he had thought about pasting her lips shut.

As he, along with Jasper, snuck out from the back of the Castle, Walter had been thinking more than he had in years. Should he talk to the girl and try to get her out of her despondency? Would she recover on her own time if he just waited long enough? He remembered his comrades from his crazy adventurous days, many of them lost hope, but they had held onto that hope for several days before giving it up. It had taken the poor girl only five minutes to decide that she did not want to go on anymore.

"Ayleth," Walter finally decided to say, "It isn't your fault."

The girl did not even tremble. Was she even breathing anymore? Surely Jasper would have said something if she'd suddenly passed out. It was only after he stopped walking that Walter heard her finally speak. "How is it not my fault? It is because of me... dead... Just..." Ayleth was never one to cry and if she did start today then he supposed he couldn't blame her.

Her words became muffled as she gave up once more. There was no use in saying anything when the deed was already done. She'd went up with Walter after her failed attempt at a speech to increase the morale of the workers only for them to whisper and boo silently as she left the kitchens. Walter took her up for a quick bit of training where she'd proven her fighting abilities were exceptional. It had made the older man very proud as he took her up in a tight hug after she broke his practice sword in half. Everything passed that moment was nothing but darkness. Some people from Bowerstone were in the front hall screaming and demanding rights, or something. Elliot filled her in on the matter as best he could. Ayleth had known that it was her time to speak up to her brother as she promised herself she would when she stopped feeling so much like a child.

They had entered the King's study where he rolled his eyes and berated her for getting into his affairs and bothering him. She told him that he was being a tyrant and every one of the men and women down in the courtyard was making sure to shout it loud enough for him to hear. King Logan had offered her the ability to be an adult after he called her a child.

"Today is my birthday!" she had said. "I am a woman now."

Logan had rolled his dark eyes- something they both did quite often. "Then you shall make your first decision as an adult!"

She followed after him as he took his usually long strides Ayleth had to speed walk to keep up since she was much shorter than her lumbering brother. "Fine. What must I do? Decide the royal undergarments for this summer?" she had asked jokingly, but Logan didn't say anything, didn't even grunt.

They entered the throne room and Logan walked up to his chair, but did not sit. From behind there was yelling and the sounds of struggle. Three people were taken to the right side of the room and then from behind that small pack Elliot was escorted in by one of Logan's men. Logan's lips quivered at the corners but he was still not even smirking. "Here is your first big decision, Ayleth, my big grown up sister. You get to decide the fates of the people you see before you."

Ayleth nodded. He'd probably want to put the men and woman in jail. So why was Elliot there? His eyes looked so sad. He didn't make immediate eye contact as if he knew something she did not. She stepped up onto one of the steps leading up to where Logan stood and she felt him get closer and place his spindly fingered hands on her shoulders. "Tell me Ayleth... who would you save? You're little boyfriend? How about these innocent people caught up in the rioting? I'm sure they have families."

From the left, Elliot was waving his hands slightly, just in front of his chest to get her attention. "Pick me, Ayleth!"

She shot them both glances and realized that whoever she picked would be sentenced to death. Elliot may have been calling for her to pick him. He told her it would save more than just one that way. He was only one man. They were grown with families and homes. "Can't decide?" Logan had whispered. Then his voice got louder so that he could declare, "Then I will count to five and if a verdict is not made then they shall all die!"

While she stood there staring at Elliot, tears were forming in her eyes and rolling over her cheeks taking the white powder with it. In that time Logan was counting down. Ayleth's fingers twitched as she lifted her hands and with a shaking arm she swung round to point at the men and woman huddled together. "Them..."

Logan finally let out a laugh. It was dark and unsettling. "Take them out of here and go dump that boy somewhere. I don't care!"

Ayleth would have chased after Elliot but she couldn't move. She stood there while the guards pushed the angry people out as they cursed her and cried. Logan stepped down from and gave her one last pat on the head before disappearing to wherever it was.

Ayleth let out a sudden sob. Her eyes instantly filled with tears again. Walter warned her that he was lowering her to stand. Once on her feet she covered her face with her hands and let all the pain consume her. "Elliot!" she screamed out, but Walter quickly grabbed her by her arms and shook her gently.

"You can't be running around screaming like that! You can't let this destroy you." His voice had started so roughly, but it quieted to something soft and fatherly in nature. "You just didn't want the man you loved to die. It is Logan's fault and curse him, it's the last straw!"

From behind Jasper gave a cough. "If I may say something? We need to hurry on with your little idea Sir Walter. Please lead the way."

Ayleth noticed they were standing in front of the doors which lead down into the catacombs. Was this Sir Walter's idea of making her feel better? Seeing the sarcophagi of her parents? She followed after him. Jasper and she stayed back as Walter marched out into the large open area where the final resting place of her parents lay.

From the very front of the room they noticed something moving around the back, just behind the tomb of Ayleth's departed mother. Walter's brows arched and his hand swiftly shot to his weapon at his belt. Who could have possibly had the audacity to come into the catacombs of the late king and queen? He used a hand to signal that the other two should stay behind him so he could confront the intruder being that he was the only one currently armed. Whoever it was noticed Sir Walter approaching and did not try to run or let out a sound in fear. No, they approached him with his hands gripping at a disk shaped object.

Walter stopped, fearing that this was some sort of mad man. He was in his mid-thirties and the years had apparently not favored him because of the severe wrinkles on his forehead like someone who raised his brows a little too often. "I was waiting to see if someone would show up. I thought I was late," the man stated.

The man let go of one side of the disk and continued to near Walter with his other hand reaching out as if to shake. "I don't think you are in your right mind, Man. You may want to stay back. What's that in your hand?"

The man looked down at the disk. "I am not sure what it is. I just know that there seems to be another one in the hands of that statue." His head twisted toward the large statue of a kneeling figure. "Since I saw that I was sure I'd been lead to the right place."

Ayleth looked over at Jasper who was still and calm. Good old Jasper, she thought. She leaned over and whispered, "Who do you think he is?"

Jasper gave a slight shrug. "I don't know, but I hope Sir Walter can take care of this situation fast. I find this place rather eerie." She had to agree with that and the pair went back to watching the situation. The man was trying to get a hand shake, but Walter avoided it by asking questions.

The man ran his still hovering hand through his hair. He looked very messy and smelt a little funny too. An awkward moment passed before either spoke. It was the strange man. "I am glad to get to meet the second hero!"

Walter nearly choked on his own spit at that. His body went tense. "You are looking for the hero?"

"Another hero. I am one of them... At least that is what I was told. I was also told I would meet the second here! I assume that is you?" The man was watching every single movement that Walter made as he fidgeted with the handle on his sword hilt.

Did he tell the man who he suspected was the real hero? He thought about Ayleth standing there and crying. This man had surely be a hero if he held a guild seal and proclaimed to know something as important as another hero. Walter's eyes nearly went cross with all the questions he had. "I am not the other hero," he finally said. This man could possibly help them with their current struggle. What was sure to only grow worse as long as Logan sat on the throne. "Ayleth!"

Both men turned and watched as the petite figure of the young woman walked toward them. She had make-up running under her eyes. She wasn't looking at them either. Her eyes were cast off to the side. The man snorted making the girl jump. "You are kidding? She is a little girl! She can't be the hero!"

Ayleth would have been mad at being called a little girl, but she was too confused about hearing the word Hero. Walter placed his large hand on top of her messy hair. "Aye, her father was and I know she has it in her."

Ayleth stared up at Walter. "I can't be a hero."

"Says who?" Walter demanded.

"I don't know... But I can't!"

The other man took his hand and offered it to her for the shake he hadn't gotten from the man he thought was the hero. "My name is Albrecht. I hope you'll join me. We have something important to take care of and I don't know what so I will need all the help I can get."

Ayleth turned to Walter for approval and he gave it to her with a toothy grin. "I am Ayleth. Former Princess. I think I have a hunch as to what this thing we are taking care of might be." She took his hand and they gave two solid shakes before pulling apart.


	5. Mangled Madams

Chapter Five: The Mangled Madams

Wynter had been forced to step over numerous bodies after she finally decided to retire for the night. On the sofa some man had lost his coat even his undershirt. Wynter's nose wrinkled in disgust at his beer-gut. There was a woman sitting with her back against the wall, but she was snoring heavily, so obviously asleep. She tipped-toed past the lot and down the small hall to Uncle Arthur's room where he lay across his beds width, still dressed up from the party. He was in the house and not out on the road screaming obscenities at anyone so she decided she could go to her room and rest easily with that knowledge.

She clambered up the steps as fast as she could while still trying to be quiet. The only thing she could hope for at this point was that no one had decided that her room looked comfortable enough to pass out in. A whole year with Uncle Arthur and this was the worst any party had ever been, but then again he did not usually have parties. He had decided he wanted to celebrate the coming summer season. She wondered how Mister Reaver faired with all the parties he had, since those women stated that he had one a week. What could he be celebrating that often?

Inside her room she found nothing that wasn't supposed to be there. Her four-post bed was up against the right wall and her chest of drawers was on the left. A large ornate rug stretched across the empty space in the center. If Wynter had known that she would be staying here as long as she had thus far then she would have brought more things to give this room the feel of belonging. Instead it looked like a place where you'd send the unwanted guests. Though that did sound a lot like something Uncle Arthur would want. He was constantly talking about all the things he could do when she finally left. She knew that she couldn't take it too personally. He was that way with everyone, why would his niece be an exception?

She noticed that one of the maids had fixed her covers and pillows. She told them not to, because she was only just going to mess it up again that night. Wynter had to admit that the maid who had come in that day was a brave one. They most likely had the job of getting wine and small sandwiches. Surprising that they had the time to come upstairs and fix up the covers.

"Do I waste my energy by putting on pajamas? Or do I sleep in my nice clothing?" Wynter asked aloud as she went to chest of drawers and opened the top drawer. She was just beginning to pull the top out until there was the grating sound of a woman's screams. Hesitantly, Wynter began to shuffle across the room toward the window. It had sounded to a little too close to the house. The woods were a little too close to back. Sometimes she swore that the trees were moving closer each night. Maybe now they were finally taking over. Vigorously she shook her head, because that was ridiculous and she wanted to make light of a terrible situation that was really taking place. There was no more screaming. Did she check out the window to see if there was a woman down there?

It wasn't much longer before she decided to just go to her bed, folding over one corner of her covers and crawling in while still fully clothed in her day attire, shoes included. Usually it took her at least half an hour to settle in and drift off, but for some reason she was exhausted. It was possibly one of the fullest days she'd had in a while.

The light from the morning sun was peaking in through the gaps in her curtains and made a perfect line over her face and into one of her eyes. She let out a huff and rolled onto her side. She would have happily fallen back asleep except her uncle was somewhere shouting her name. "Wynter! Wynter! You lazy girl!" Wynter stretched her limbs and slid out from under the covers. She mentally scolded herself for wearing her shoes into the bed without thinking about how dirty her covers were going to be.

Before going down to see what it was Uncle Arthur so eagerly wanted, she scribbled a quick message for the maid to take her sheets for washing. It was only when she had opened her door that she remembered that she had not changed from yesterday. She looked to her door, then to the stairs, at the bottom of them her uncle was waiting. It wasn't that hard of a decision really. All she had to do was see what he needed and then she could go change.

Arthur stood at the foot of the stairs with his hand rested on the balustrade. He'd waited at least five minutes and that was more than enough. If she didn't hurry he'd go find someone else to tell the enticing news to. Right as he was turning around to head through the front door Wynter appeared at the top of the stairs with her hair looking a complete and utter tale of tragedy.

"What did you need Uncle?"

"Gracious, Girl! What happened? Did a tornado roll through your room last night?"

Wynter groaned. She had completely forgotten things like brushing her hair and washing up. If she hadn't been wearing her clothing from yesterday would she have come out nude as well? This made her giggle to herself, which she stifled with the back of her hand so Uncle Arthur would not asked what was so funny. "Yesterday was a crazy day," was all she commented.

Uncle Arthur just frowned up at her. "It really was, but I have more important things to say!"

"Like what?"

"Did you see Miss Abigail and Miss Lydia at the party yesterday?"

Wynter may have lived there for a year, but she did not "rub elbows" with any of the other residences. "Who are they?"

Her uncle let out an impatient breath. "They were to themselves the whole time. Had the tall pink hair!" He waved his hand high over his head.

Then it became clear. They were the two women who had followed Mister Reaver and his lurking companion down the road because last night had been such a wonderful night for a stroll, when she thought this she even thought it with the man's irksome voice. "What about them?" She asked, leaning up against the wall and folding her arms over her chest.

"They found the two women's bodies just down the road up in a tree. Wouldn't have found them if it hadn't been for a clothing trader walking by. One of their shoes went and hit him in the head."

Was it just her or did Uncle Arthur speak these words with a little too much excitement? Was he happy that these women were dead? Her eyes grew wide. They were dead! "What killed them?" she asked wearily.

Uncle Arthur shrugged. "I think its wolves; bloody mange ridden dogs always tormenting us classy folk." He did not seem to understand that wolves would attack anyone, not just the high class citizens. Of course he had to find something mean to say about them as well.

She cocked a brow. "How did they put the bodies in the tree?"

"Don't ask me! Those scum-puppies are crafty ones." Wynter knew the conversation was over because her uncle turned around and walked out the front door. Probably so he could go look at the crime scene again and give the guards his input. Perhaps she should have followed him and stopped him from making a fool of himself.

There were more pressing concerns at hand however, things like putting on new clothes and doing her hair. If her uncle wanted to run off and bother them then they would have to deal with it until she finished.

An hour passed before Wynter stepped out of her room again. The maid was down in the sitting room sweeping up the crumbs from the finger foods. She had left the note on her bed from earlier and was prepared to go outside and see the mess her Uncle was making, no doubt. The maid noticed her open the door and told her to have a pleasant day, in case they didn't see each other the rest of the day. Wynter wasn't sure how long she planned on being out. She wasn't even sure why she was so worried about her Uncle goofing it up since it was a normal occurrence with him. In all honesty she knew that it was because she was curious to see the crime scene. It had only been the two women; unless the bodies of Mister Reaver and Lurk-y Companion had been discarded somewhere else. A gang of bandits could have seen them walking in the dark and shot them and stolen all of their money and jewels. From there they pushed the bodies into the trees so that no one would see them and give them plenty of time to make an escape. Why did no one decided to investigate the scream last night? Were the guards too afraid themselves? Typical of them, Wynter thought. Stomping around during the day like they ran the place, but they made themselves scarce at night for fear of being killed.

She saw a large gathering of people where it must have happened. No one tended to gather like that with no cause. One of the guards commanded, "Step back! Please, this is a crime scene!"

When she heard the shout of "It was wolves I tell you!" Wynter went completely pale in embarrassment. Even if she did not know them everyone in Millfields knew that she was. However, when she saw one of the forms hanging limply off of a branch, she could believe that it was wolves.

The woman (she didn't know which one had been Abigail and which had been Lydia) was covered in gaping wounds. She was completely drenched in her own blood and her innards dangled just like her body. Bandits usually used guns and swords didn't make tears like those her body adorned.

Wynter found herself gagging at the sight. Many of the women there were holding kerchiefs to their mouths and looking someplace else while the men muttered and pointed as if they were doctors and knew the answers. The guards continued to tell everyone to go back home. They even suggested they remained there for the remained of the day.

Did the guards have suspects in mind? Did they plan on running an investigation? Wynter's thoughts left her more upset because she couldn't seem to find any closure to the problem. They wouldn't find anyone monstrous enough to do something as vile as slaughter two young women! They had to have great strength too, lifting them up into a tree like that! If they did find whoever done it then they would massacre the guards too.

Wynter clenched her fists and ran back to Uncle Arthur's home as fast as she could manage. The maid was working on the hallway now and told her hello, but Wynter just smiled weakly and rushing up the stairs to her room. If Millfields wasn't even safe where was there to go? She could stay in the house until there was a long enough streak where nothing bad happened. She rummaged through her bottom drawer and pulled out a choker that had a circular crest on it. She wasn't sure where it was from or what side of the family held such a crest, but when she was little her mother had given it to her and told her that if she ever felt scared that she could tell it her worries and fears and they would go away.

Her lips pressed against the metal crest before she said, "Whatever evil has arose... I hope it is ended."


	6. A Difference Amongst Heroes

Chapter Six: A Difference amongst Heroes

Albrecht stood at the back of the cobweb infested room. His eyes scanned over the floor where scrap papers littered the entirety of the room. At the center of the room the three he had met at the beginning in the catacombs were all gathered around a table with a very interesting mad displayed. The man who told him he was Jasper was pouring over a book which had been left on the map table. The girl, Ayleth and he had gotten a special trip onto the path he'd awoken on the night before. Theresa had told them that it was The Road to Rule. The girl may have said she was a former princess but she was still a princess all the same and one day she would take over the throne for King Logan... Albrecht knew that name; he knew he had heard it, but when searching through his miniscule span of memories he never once remembered hearing it from anyone or anything.

Regardless the name of the king, Albrecht watched as Theresa guided the girl to a chest where she opened it to reveal a gauntlet that allowed her to cast fire from her palms. The girl had stared at it with eyes filled with complete fear. Albrecht had approached and smiled cunningly. "I could take that and use it. No need to have a little girl do any fighting." As he had reached for the gauntlet she pulled away sharply and shook her head.

"I am a hero as much as you. I can fight thank you."

He left his thoughts when Jasper stopped talking and Walter started. He noticed that Ayleth was almost hiding behind the hulking man, but she was definitely looking at him. He raised his brows at her in question and her eyes instantly cast aside. He just sighed and continued to appraise the room.

Finally, Walter looked up at Albrecht and stated. "Are the two heroes ready to make their trip to the Dweller Camp?"

"Dweller Camp?" Albrecht didn't know what that was. Why were they going there? He glanced about the ground for the magic glowing trail that had been his guide so far, even in the underground caves they had been in not so long ago. On their way through, Ayleth had come across a floating silver key. Albrecht was ready to tell her to hand it over since he had already found one himself. He had stopped himself. He didn't need to make an enemy of her. Theresa had said that he would have to hurry in order to ensure she joined him. Had he actually been too late? Theresa did not say anything when they were on the road.

Walter turned back to Ayleth and said something he didn't hear. Albrecht tried not to let his mind make assumptions. Ayleth was just a girl and she seemed very uneasy about everything they'd done so far. Albrecht was a grown man who had nothing from his past so he could see how he so willingly jumped into things she did not. Or maybe he was just a fool for listening to an old blind woman standing in a foggy nowhere.

"Up in the Dweller Camp is a man Sabine. He'd be a great ally in this revolution. It will just take a little to bring him to our side."

Albrecht bit at his lip. "Revolution?"

He thought that Walter would have been the one to reply, but it was Ayleth. "Against my brother. His sudden change in attitude and tyranny needs to be dealt with. He's hurt his people."

"Is that was we need heroes for? Stop a king who isn't being nice enough!" Albrecht scoffed.

Ayleth stared at him long and hard. Her eyes weren't narrowed so she couldn't be angry with him, could she?

Walter nudged the girl with his elbow and she did a spin in the opposite direction and marched to the far side of the room and slid down the wall. It was only now that Jasper stopped reading from his manual and his eyes met Albrecht's for a long intense minute. "Madam, this table will help you instantly travel to the camp."

"Thank you, Jasper," she replied with a voice that could only be described as emotionless.

Walter glared at Albrecht with old knowing eyes. "Well, Mister Hero. How about you used the table to get up to the Dweller Camp?" He supposed that Ayleth wouldn't be doing it in the state she was in at the moment so he nodded sharply.

"Of course I will do it. Come on then Ayleth. The sooner we get the revolution over with then the sooner we can go about our normal business." He approached the table and was it just or him or did Jasper scoot away a tad bit? He saw the top of the mountain and like some sort of magic the word Dweller Camp floated over it. "I found it."

With a grunt, Walter moved around the table. "Alright. Ayleth come on we have to head out."

Albrecht wasn't sure how the table worked so he could get them there. After Ayleth was standing beside Walter he touched the small circular area that pinpointed the camp. A flash of light surrounded them before the room vanished and then they were surrounded by mountains.

"It's so bloody cold. I always forget that," Walter stated jabbing playfully at Ayleth. The man was trying his best to cheer her up, but Ayleth just twisted her head so she could look the other way. When the man realized she was still in a foul mood he just gave a sorrowful breath and stated, "I'll head on up to Sabine. Try to soften him up a tiny bit before you talk to him." He lowered his head and shrugged his shoulders, then took off down into the camp.

Albrecht glanced over at Ayleth who was watching her... well Albrecht didn't know what Walter was in relationship to the girl. She'd made it clear that her father had been the hero so he wasn't that. The man Jasper was her servant, because he'd alluded to the subject in the caves. Maybe an uncle? Well whatever he was to her, he was trying to make her happy.

His decided he'd take in the small settlement. His olive eyes scanned the passing citizens. Most had fur collars on their coats. Their hands were gloved in thick brown material. He smiled at the large heavy boots. They looked quite comfortable! Once more he looked Ayleth's way and saw the girl had wrapped her arms around herself, with a hint of a shiver coming on. He smiled at her, but she wasn't even watching his general direction.

He'd do something nice for her and get back in her good graces so that there was no longer and awkwardness between them. Maybe he needed to try to remember how to make friends in priority to everything else. His first order of business in a step to be kind to the little girl was an easy one. He glanced at the pouch on his side which carried his gold. "I'm going to go take a walk. Want to come?"

Ayleth's eyes peeked at him, but her lips curved into a frown. Albrecht ran his hand nervously through his hair and he stared at her to see if she was even going to attempt an answer. It didn't come so he shrugged and walked from the small area they had appeared. On the ground he noticed that his trusty golden trail of light had reappeared. It went straight up through the city. He followed it most of the way up a small hill when from the corner of his eye he noticed something bright and colorful. It wasn't that of snow, which there was plenty of.

Upon closer inspection it turned out that those colorful and bright things were flowers. The woman standing in front of the caravan seemed tired. Her eyes were dull and she was lifelessly leaned up against the front of her little store. Albrecht pulled out some coins and asked her how much for her flowers. Her eyes grew bright. "You want to buy something?" she asked as if it were the strangest thing.

Albrecht nodded slowly. "So how much?"

"I don't even know how much to charge..." She placed her fingers to her mouth and began to bite her nails.

A little put off Albrecht suggests a sum of fifty coins and she nodded vigorously. He handed her the money, which he'd collected from all his running about before getting with Ayleth and Walter. The pouch on his belt was a little lighter and he felt a little better that he may have something to cheer the girl up.

He went back to where they'd arrived only to find Ayleth wasn't even there. His initial response was freaking out, because he'd lost the person who was supposed to be helping him. Then he realized that this camp was small and she stuck out like sore thumb amongst these people. She was wearing some sort of royal gown and had a weird piece adorning her head. He wasn't sure what to call it. He checked on the flowers which he was surprised he hadn't crushed since he had clenched his fists in frustration when he came to see she was missing.

It didn't take long to find her, though he'd whished it had been some other way. After a second of anger, he heard a man call out. "Well hey! What's with the fancy outfit you got on there?" Albrecht turned to see a man leaning sideways against the same fence Ayleth had decided to stand against. "You're kinda, Busty. That your name? Huh, Busty?"

Albrecht instantly noticed Ayleth lift up her right hand. The one with the gauntlet. Surely she wasn't going to use it! He made a quick dash down the path and halted right before her. With his empty hand he snatched her arm and hissed. "You can't do that around these people."

Ayleth's cold blue eyes stared deeply into his. He felt almost chilled by it. A voice whispered in his ear, "Let her do it, Albrecht. She's not the kind of help you want." Albrecht recognized that voice from that night just before he passed out and came to in a small room right in the castle. "She will be arrested and you will be the true hero."

Albrecht's grip faulted and Ayleth yanked her arm from his grasp. She turned to the sleazy man who had remained beside them even though he looked terrified about Albrecht's sudden actions. "Yes. I'm Busty. Nice to meet you..."

"Um... I think I hear my wife calling," he said quietly. He wasn't even looking at her anymore. His eyes were wide and on Albrecht worried about what the tall and muscular man may do to him. In a flash the man was gone, lost in the caravans.

Ayleth stuck her nose up and put the darkest facade up. "I know you don't want to work with a little girl. I was trying to do you a favor."

Albrecht rolled his eyes in annoyance. "You aren't a little girl. You are a woman and you need to act like one. We better go find Walter." In order not to take his anger out on her any further he had to take his mind off her.

She grew silent. Her eyes filling with tears. Albrecht cursed himself. He'd made the poor thing cry! He then remembered the flowers. He thrust his hand out with the flowers pointed toward her. "What are these?" she asked, though her voice was barely audible.

"I got them to cheer you up," was his reply.


	7. To Start a Revolution

Chapter Seven: To Start a Revolution

Ayleth saw the confusion arise by the look on Walter's face as she followed up the path after Albrecht. He was staring at the bouquet in her hand. She told herself that she would toss them aside as soon as Albrecht had turned away, but for some reason she could not being herself to do it. Walter must have decided that it wasn't important enough ask because he came and wrapped his arm over her shoulder. "Sabine agreed to speak with you. He's waiting."

Albrecht did not wait for her as he had been doing; he walked right through the small fenced area. She wondered if she should even bother going to talk to him since Albrecht was the big strong man after all. He'd called her a child and a grown adult all in one day and she tired of everyone suddenly picking and choosing which she was whenever they pleased. After her mind was made up, that she would indeed stand where she was until Albrecht finished, Walter placed his hand on her back and pushed her forward until she willingly walked by herself. Curse the man for being so strong, she thought.

In only a matter of hours everything had begun to fall apart all around her. Her birthday had started just swimmingly. She had spent a good deal of the morning with Elliot and had gotten her first kiss. She was sure that they would have spent the whole day together until evening came when she got her birthday dinner and for desert a gorgeous cake. Suddenly her stomach was hurting as it remembered that she hadn't eaten anything in a span of twenty-four hours. She wasn't sure how much longer she could go without food before passing out. She could only hope it was when something important occurred so it would bother Albrecht all the more.

Standing right in the middle of the small flat patch of land was a very large and tan man. He wore a round hat covered in fur and had a skull and cross-bone buckle for his belt. She couldn't take her eyes off of his exaggeratingly long mustache. Was this Sabine? Just a few feet in front of the man, Albrecht stood motionlessly. Ayleth was happy to see that he was scared stiff. If this man were Sabine then she could see how he would help in a Revolution. He was the size of one of the mountains which surrounded the Dweller Camp. Seeing as how Albrecht was terrified, she decided that she would allow him to take care of the matter.

Just as she folded her arms in triumph a voice called out, "Boulder! Move outta the way!" The giant turned around and stepped aside to reveal and small hunched over old man. "So Walter, these are the heroes?" The old man's dark eyes scanned them over with much scrutiny. His eyes landed on the flowers in Ayleth's hand and he let out a howl. "I ask for warriors and you bring me some flower girl?"

From behind Walter stated, "I was just as confused, Sabine."

So, the tiny man sitting in a tiny chair was the man who was going to help with their Revolution? Ayleth seemed a little doubtful, still he had the giant man working for him, she supposed.

Albrecht drew toward the man with a hand out. "Hello, Sir. I am Albrecht. One of the Heroes."

Sabine shook his head. "Not shaking anything till we have a few words, Boy." Ayleth smiled when he called Albrecht, an obviously thirty-something year old man, a boy. Taste of what he deserved.

"Right then," Albrecht breathed and put his hand back to his side and stepped back.

Sabine's eyes went to her now. "You are the Princess then? Miss Albion herself! Why on earth should I go about helping the kin of a man who deserted us?"

Ayleth took a step forward. "I have seen how my brother has been treating his citizens first hand. He doesn't deserve to rule with such cruelty. The time has come that we stand up against him until things are different."

"Words mean little here, Girl. I need proof of your ability. I could walk around dressed just as fancy singing myself praise of being a hero, but that doesn't make me one." The man made a valid argument, but why would anyone have a reason to suggest that they were a hero if they were not one? Ayleth caught herself checking over at Albrecht. If not for the Seer, Theresa she would have easily dismissed him.

In response to Sabine, Ayleth asked, "What is it you need? I could show you the seal or my gauntlet." She held up her hand, but the man waved his hand.

"None of that, no. I need things that will help us if you wish for us to help you. I don't ask anything you shouldn't be doing with your title anyways." He laced his fingers together and paused for a significant time. Finally, "You need to go down to Brightwall. There is an old relic there. Something only the hero, nay heroes, could acquire. Next you need to take out the mercenaries which have been harassing these people and stopping the trade we used to have down with the people of Brightwall. It is their fault we are in such shape, but your brother's as well for not stopping them. Finally, the people of Brightwall are sure to listen to a hero, so ask them if they might spare food with their mountain dwelling friends."

Albrecht raised a hand to get the man's attention. "I think that is asking a bit much. Don't you Ayleth?" Ayleth sneered and looked away, why would she agree with him? "Walter?" Ayleth rolled her eyes, because why did he think he had the right to ask her trainer? He was there for her not him.

It was starting to become obvious to her though, why everyone was treating her like a small child, she was whining just like one. Walter did not answer him, so Ayleth walked toward the other hero. "I kind of agree with Albrecht. It does sound rather troublesome."

Sabine furrowed his brow. "If it's too hard then why should we help you in the revolution?"

Albrecht said, "I understand now. You can't payment for what has happened. You want to make sure we won't turn our backs on you like the King has done. I think we can respect that. Can't we Ayleth?"

Ayleth was sure that Albrecht wasn't expecting her to reply, since she had been refusing too. So she stood up straight and stated boldly. "Yes. I understand what you have asked of us and we agree to acquire the relic, stop the mercenaries, and talk to those in Brightwall about sending food to your people."

Walter let out a hardy, "Hurrah!" from behind them and Ayleth felt herself really smiling for the first time since her days had seemingly turned to nothing but terribleness. She swung around and gave him a tight hug and he patted her on the head. "That'a girl, Ayleth. That'a girl."

Then Ayleth shook her head and back away from her mentor. She gave everyone in the area a quick glimpse before stating. "Ayleth was the Princess who stayed locked up in the Castle. Was treated like a doll and did not understand the word responsibility. Call me Busty."

Walter suddenly let out a cough and began choking. Albrecht had already heard her say something close to that earlier before handing over the flowers. Regardless of having heard it, he still went wide eyed and averted his gaze. Sabine let out a fit of laughter. "You got a real funny one here, Walter."

"Yes, really funny," Walter stated vacantly.

Ayleth didn't see what the big deal was. She was a grown woman now and she didn't want to be little Princess Ayleth any longer. She'd have to find the man from earlier and shake his hand for helping her find this new identity. She was quite sure he had been intoxicated and wouldn't remember it. Thinking about it, she'd never met an intoxicated person before.

They had wrapped up their little meeting. Boulder, the large man, had waved and let out a few grunts. Before Busty followed after Walter and Albrecht she gave the man the flowers, because they would only wither and die if she continued on with them. Albrecht would surely understand that. In fact, Albrecht had stopped to wait for her and saw the gesture. When she rejoined them, he smirked. "That your type?"

"My what?" Busty asked.

Albrecht let out a laugh. "Oh come on. You know. Your type. You like giant's with an even more giant mustache?"

Busty felt herself beginning to blush and she quickly blurted, "Oh no not at all. I already have someone."

"Well, Walter said he was heading off to find out about those mercenaries. That leaves us to go down to Brightwall and find that relic-thingy. So while we walk how about you tell me about your someone!" Albrecht slapped her over the back.

She nearly tripped, but caught herself mid-fall and playfully pushed him back. "It's none of your business, Al." Albrecht stared at her for a long time. He looked a little confused. "What's wrong?"

Albrecht creased his brow in thought. "Al?"

"You know.. short for Albrecht?"

The man grinned. "That is clever." He pointed at her with both pointer fingers like she'd just told a good joke and he was praising her for it.

Before they left the Camp, Albrecht had told Busty to wait by the gate and bridge for him. She did it wondering if he had to use the bathroom. She didn't ask though. They were finally getting along and the last thing she needed was to make things really awkward and disgusting. It wasn't that long of a wait before Albrecht came walking toward her. "I was... just off.. oh nevermind."

She didn't get to ask what it was, because Jasper's voice suddenly sounded off in her mind. She wanted to scream, "_I knew you could get into my mind_", but she didn't want to confuse Albrecht anymore than she had already. "Madam," the voice said, "I have done some cleaning and I believe you would like to come and see what I have waiting for you here in the Sanctuary."

She wasn't sure how to answer, so she thought out, _How can I come back to the Sanctuary, Jasper?_

The Servant's voice replied, "Simply think hard about it."

"Albrecht, let's go back to the Sanctuary really quick."

The man nodded. Busty grabbed his arm and thought about being in the Sanctuary with Jasper. Like magic, which she'd never believed in before now, they appeared inside of the room that was filled with way too much blue. Well, that was Busty's opinion at least. Jasper was there with a small smile on his old face. "Ah, you both are here. I was dusting out the room right there when suddenly these clothes appeared on these two mannequins. Follow me."

The two heroes followed the servant through the only open door. He stopped about halfway into the room and pointed to two outfits which Busty had seen while in the dweller camp. From her side Albrecht stated in awe, "What do you know about that? I bought those and as soon as the man handed them over they just vanished."

Jasper bowed his head. "It is a very curious place. It is here to help the hero. I suppose a wardrobe is essential for everyday activity. You needn't be bothered with carrying clothing about."

Busty wasn't so much surprised by the clothing magically appearing inside the sanctuary as she was at Albrecht's kind gesture. Yes, the man had gotten her flowers, but that seemed like he was just trying to find a quick way to win her over. This was something that wasn't prompted at all. "Thanks, Al."

The man's head snapped toward her and he was looking at her as if they'd never seen each other before and she had said something completely daft.


	8. Summer Comes and Wynter Takes Off

Chapter Eight: Summer Comes and Wynter Takes Off

It was the dead of night. And perhaps Wynter should have thought of a better way to describe it. After the scene from that morning it was in bad taste. The point was that she did not feel safe. However, something inside of her was telling her that she needed to take some sort of action against it all. The guards were no help. They were just as petrified as any of the residences. The only person not scared was Uncle Arthur, but the man thought he was invincible. She could only hope his conceit didn't get him killed as well.

She had been thinking about it all day. The one time she tried to take a nap, she had nightmares and decided to just find something else to occupy her time. She started by taking her sheets off her bed, since she'd soiled them with her shoes. The maid had come in and was surprised to see her. Wynter refused to let the woman touch her things, because she needed to do them herself so she couldn't be idle long enough to start thinking about things. Around Supper Uncle Arthur retired to the house after a busy day of spreading rumors; she had no proof of this, but that was what he did on every other day. Why would this day be different?

She barely touched her food then and her uncle complained about being wasteful when those who lived in the Dweller Camp were probably starving. "But they deserve it!" he'd stated. "Going and living in the mountains like they are better than everyone."

Wynter ignored his comments and excused herself before desert was served. She'd sat in her room staring at the curtains. She'd even begun to fill tired, but there was no going to sleep. "Maybe now is the time," she finally said to herself. She stood and approached her chest-of-drawers. The bottom one hosted her valuables and some crafting she'd been working on. She pulled open the drawer until it fell out and hit the floor, only cringing after the fact when she remembered Uncle Arthur's room was below hers. Inside the drawer she pulled out her choker and went to tie it around her neck. The bundle of clothing inside was from clothing she'd found in chest which were hiding behind trees around the house. She unrolled the outfit she'd stitched together herself. Couldn't tell anyone what the clothing was supposed to be before now. It had been a pair of traveler pants or something; there was also a pair of pajama pants. She'd cut both into strips and put them together in alternating stripes. She had to layer the pajamas sense they'd be less insulating. Then she taken a baggy shirt and fixed it so that it was more form fitting and even took the neck line down a little so she didn't look like she was being choked by her own collar. It was a plain off-white colored top so she hadn't been to upset that it didn't match. It was plain and wouldn't draw attention like all the clothing people in Millfields wore; Tall pink hair on the ladies, bright red jackets on the men. The pants were black and pinkish, which was strange, but not as ridiculous as it could be.

Tonight was the night that she would wear the outfit and head off just as she had been wanting to for about a month. Uncle Arthur said she should get out. She may not have been getting married, but she'd be doing something right. Sometimes she thought that maybe it would be nice to live in a place like Mourning Wood. She had never met anyone from there or seen anything from it, but she'd heard it was a tiny little village setting. There were loads of trees. It sounded like paradise now. Bandits probably didn't bother with them since she were poor. She did not feel the need to be rich when she was expected to stay in the same place and not enjoy anything.

Winter changed out of her usual clothing and put on her home-made garb. It fit well enough and she was sure when she arrived in Mourning Wood she would find some more traditional clothing. She didn't have anything worth value that she wasn't already wearing. The only other thing in the drawer had been her needles. She did not have a pack so carrying it would only become a hassle in the long run. She put the drawer back in place and went to her door. Uncle Arthur would be asleep and she could easily slip out the front.

Maybe now wasn't the best time to go, she suddenly thought. No, if she did not go now then she would never get out of there until a man did come and she had given up. Wynter knew most of the women there went for the men with the most money or largest house. Was it bad that Wynter would rather be in love? If she stood there and thought on it all night then she would never get out. So she pressed on toward the stairs. The front door was closed and bolted. The maid had gone home, no doubt. The first order of business would probably be going to a larger place such as Bowerstone for a map and directions. She knew the way there. She'd travelled from Uncle Arthur's to the city and back. She'd always been with her Uncle of course, but she could manage it on her own?

"There it is," she breathed. "Just open the door and go, Wynter."

The bolt was cold as she slid it out of the lock. She was a little nervous about going. She'd be leaving the house unlocked and if she did ever return to find her uncle was dead, and then she'd blame herself for sure. As she began to inch the door open something behind her creaked. She turned around and was facing Uncle Arthur. "Where are you sneaking of to?"

She'd nearly passed out from fear, but her heart slowly returned to its normal speed. "I was about to... Get some air?"

Her Uncle just stared. "I'm not stupid you know. You're running off. You have been acting funny for the last few days. You eloping?" Her head shook franticly. "Then what do you think you are doing? It's dangerous out there, Crazy."

It was time to come clean with her idea. He knew she was running off somewhere. She may as well tell him where. "I was going to move to Mourning Wood."

Her Uncle snorted. "That's a good one, Wynter. But I mean no one wants to go there. It's swampy and nasty."

"Have you been?"

Uncle Arthur looked at her like she was crazy. "You are kidding right? I would never step foot there."

Wynter just shrugged. "Then you can't know how it is. I have wanted to do this for a while now. Tonight seemed like the right time."

Her Uncle didn't say anything for a second and he turned around vanishing down the hall. Did that mean that he wanted nothing to do with her? However, he came back a moment later holding a small pistol. "It isn't much. Probably doesn't work well either, but it is protection none the less, I s'pose." She watched in confusion as her Uncle came in and held the weapon to her.

"Are you sure?" Wynter asked. She'd never held a weapon before. But what really worried her was her uncle being so kind and accepting of her journey. She had thought that he would scoff at her and tell her she was joking and tell her she wasn't really going to leave. Then she would go back to her room and pretend the thought never crossed her mind.

"As sure as I am that everyone is an idiot." There she had it, it was basically his philosophy.

Wynter was about to give him a hug for the generosity, but he waved his hands in front of him. "None of that now. I have a reputation. I can't have you running to Mourning Wood and telling everyone about your nice Uncle. They'd crawl over here and take my stuff." Yeah, that was Uncle Arthur speaking alright. "Get on out of here and take Sir Stewart the Third with you."

Sir Stewart was Uncle Arthur's dog. He'd got him three years ago for hunting trips that he decided to never take. Supposedly the dog was good at finding things. Wynter was not sure if she wanted to take Sir Stewart. She always wasn't sure if she liked his name.

Uncle Arthur had locked the door behind her. She was facing the darkness of a late spring night. The stars were out and the lake reflected their light just as the night of the party had. Sir Walter was prancing around the road. She walked after him and he started barking almost instantly. She had to chase him around the lake before he stopped and started pawing at the ground. "What is it boy?" she asked. She bent down and used her hand to do move what he had scraped up. It was a flattened corner of paper. She examined it wondering what had caused Sir Stewart to run all the way around the lake to get at. Suddenly, she glanced up and saw the guard post and gate which lead to Reaver's Manor. "You're wondering the same thing I am, aren't you Sir Walter?" She was wondering if Mister Reaver had met an untimely demise as well.

The guard at the post was chilling up against the wall of his little stall. Wynter approached with her head held high. If she looked suspicious he would most likely stop her. She stopped before the man and he just gave her a once over, but didn't speak. "I need to see-"

"Go on in," the guard stated dully.

She was a little baffled by that response, but if she was given access so freely then she'd accept it. However, wasn't it a little odd that a guest was allowed access so late in night? Wynter went to the gate and opened it herself. Standing to her immediate right was a large statue of the man she'd met yesterday night. The front yard to the manor was really lovely, but it was too dark to sit there and think about how beautiful the scenery was. The large front of the house only helped to intimidate her more. She made it to the large double doors. Her hand rapped on one of the doors and she was a little surprised by how fast someone answered. It was the man who had been with Mister Reaver. The one who had been holding the papers.

"Can I help you?" he asked. He was wearing nothing but a pair of britches with suspenders. His eyes gave her a once over like the guard's.

Wynter averted her gaze and clasped her hands together. "I was wondering if Mister Reaver was in. If so I-"

"Mistah Weavah is not in. But I can be of sew-vice." The way he spoke was a little funny, but she let that go. Either the man hadn't seen Mister Reaver since that night or Mister Reaver was out about his business as usual.

She gulped as the man began to smile and roll his tongue over his horridly chapped lips. "When will he return?" she asked as she took a step back.

The man stepped out of the threshold to the house and made obvious gestures, such as flexing his muscles and running a hand through his strangely styled hair. "Let's forget Weavah. Name is Bawwy Hatch."

Wynter back away further. "I really should get going. Sorry to bother you at this hour."

The man (Bawwy?) stepped down the stairs and followed her to the gate. As soon as she was beyond the gate he stopped his pursuit. "You'll be back!" he yelled after her.

"Sorry, Bawwy, but no I won't," she whispered as she trecked back onto the main path in hopes of getting to Bowerstone. She'd leave the case of the Missing Mister Reaver alone. It didn't matter anyways. She was going to Mourning Wood. "Come on Sir Stewart." The dog let out a bark and took off.


	9. The Inquisitive Case of Mister Reaver

Chapter Nine: The Inquisitive Case of Mister Reaver

Bowerstone was an amazing place, because it had the capability to bring together both rich and poor through the exchange of goods and services. The people who ran the shops sat back on their stools behind their service counters and waited for The Rich to come in and decide they need an over the top gown for things such as Mister Reaver's Masquerades. The event was approaching fast since he had one every other week and whether or not you got an invite depended on your social status or your ability to sweet talk the man with bribes.

Maybe that is the best place to start when describing Mister Reaver. Bribery was something that Mister Reaver enjoyed quite a lot. Someone attempting to give him things that he did not own and with his many years he had obtained, the bribes were beginning to mean a little less with each one given. He wanted money. He wanted power. And let it be known that Mister Reaver was quite great at getting both of these things by himself. The man owned a mansion to itself on the far side of the lake in Millfields and had a guard who stood in wait for guests at every possible hour. The large statue of him in the middle of his yard was just another reminder of the man's sheer inability to not love himself more than anyone else.

It was very well known that the man was a pure narcissist. If it weren't for the fact that he had to always have his gun and his cane on hand, then most wouldn't be surprised to see him holding a hand-mirror. However, it goes that no one would dare say such things to his face.

It was a Sunday, in the evening, most people had returned home for the night. Though, one man had made his way all the way from the Industry district of Bowerstone to Millfields. His name was Philip Nash. He was in his late forties and had been working for Reaver Industries since he could remember; first as an underpaid child laborer, then he grew into a guardsman.

The sun was now set and the man felt even less at ease. He had walked passed a thriving part as he made his way around the famous lake and even from that great distance he had still been able to see the Reaver Mansion. The guard before the manor had allowed him access through the gates, but that did not ensure that someone would open the doors to the manor. He'd knocked ten minutes ago, if he did so recall correctly. From his breast pocket he retrieved the summons that forced him to come with such haste.

**Dearest Philip,**

** It is that time once more! I like to refer to it as 'Debt Hunting Season', because more times than not it ends in someone's unfortunate end, and as you can surely tell, that person is not me. So, Philip, my faithful guardsman, set out to protect what I hold quite dear to myself, I hope you know it is well past due, the time of which we had discussed prior to this notes arrival. I will be waiting. **

** Yours most sincerely, **

**Reaver**

As he read the letter he could hear the man's voice in his head and he did not sound angry, because his cool voice hardly ever got a sharp edge to it, however, the man hardly ever tromped around with a smile on his face either, but usually he spoke with such a manner that it persuaded you into agreeing with him. Philip wondered if the man would persuade him into killing himself, perhaps.

Just as a visible shudder passed over him the right side to the double doors opened and a man with sullied red hair and dirt stained face appeared. He was wearing nothing but a pair of bloomers and suspenders, only that and a smile. "Can I help you?" he said in a very heavy accent.

Philip puffed up his chest. "I am here to see Mister Reaver."

"Mistah Weavah is busy at the moment. Might I sewvice you instead?" The man leaned in and stared directly into Philip's face. He had a speech impairment as well? Philip had not suspected Mister Reaver as one who hung out with such cases.

"I suppose you don't understand. I have this letter and he has asked me to see him."

The man blinked, one eyelid came down before the other. "Wight. Wight. I will see if Mistah Weavah is available…" he slurred out and began to make a turn to face the front room.

Philip followed him inside and closed the door behind him, as the strange man took to climbing the stairs, seemingly forgetting his arrival. However, as if he knew of his guest, Mister Reaver was already waiting atop of the steps. His signature look of dark hilarity was intact from the day's work. His hat was tilted slightly on his cocked head and his cane was in hand. "Aw yes! It is my darling man, Philip Nash."

The dark haired man did not make an effort to come closer, making Philip unsure if he should do any moving himself. "Now, Philip, where is the money? I am sure that is why you are here?"

"Actually, yes. You see-"

"Let me cut you off there, for you see, you started in a very bad manner. Might I suggest a change? How about," he placed his gloved finger to his lips as if to think of something snarky, but he never had to think, comments such as the one he was about to conjure up were his specialty and he needn't think, "'Mister Reaver, I have all the money I owe you, every last coin. Do not worry for it is all in a nifty little satchel which I will place on the table by the door and let myself out.'"

"I truly wish that was my intention, Sir. It is just that-" Philip tried to begin his plea once more, but before he could so much utter the words, Reaver's free hand had reached into his white jacket and out he pulled his gun. Philip froze.

Suddenly, the dark humorous look was replaced by a stern and malevolent one. They were at a silent stand-off now. Should Philip say the wrong thing he was sure to get shot and if he said nothing at all then still he would be shot. He decided to cut his losses and spill out the contents which he had spent the last few nights going over. "I have a request. I give you something in exchange for what I owe you and never ask another coin more!" he rushed this sentence so completely he wondered if the man had understood.

It took a while for Mister Reaver to reply. "What is it that a lowly guard from the Industry could possibly have in his possession that I may want?" One dark eyebrow lifted inquiringly.

"A servant! I know the perfect servant for you," Philip replied with more courage.

Mister Reaver lowered his stilled weapon. Then things took a strange turn as the man let out a heavy cackle. "Barry!" he snapped after a pause in his guffawing. The red headed man appeared a moment later wearing a table cloth around his unsightly scrawny hips. "Barry, this man just suggested the most incongruous idea. He believes that I need a servant."

The man, Barry, turned toward Philip with his mix-matched eyes. "That is most pwepostowous thing I 'ave heaw-ed," he stated in his defective dialect, as well as the slur of alcohol.

"Quite, that is exactly my rejoinder."

Philip felt dizzy. The man and his impaired servant were making fun at him. "Please, listen, Mister Reaver. I have come to realize that you rather enjoy company and pleasure. I am sure that the person I wish to barter off will fit such needs."

"You owe me eight-hundred gold. Do you know how many companions I could take with that?" When Philip stayed quiet for a moment, Reaver continued, "About 53.33333 and so on," he waved off the end of his sentence with his blasé hand. "Those are the high quality companions as well, I might add."

Philip didn't want to have to do this; this next step was intentioned to be his plan B. He got down onto his knees and clasped his hands together. "Please. It is all I have to offer."

Reaver was smirking again. Was that a good sign? "I do so enjoy how you easily put up the life of another so easily over your own. Most people come in with the most woeful of tales; which I am supposed to pity, or so I presume. You come in here and offer someone else's life? You're a dirty little man my friend. Return here tomorrow and we can discuss the situation further."

Philip felt his own lips form a weak smile, but a smile none the less, because he had done it! He would find some poor street urchin and bring them to Reaver's for a life of servitude. The homeless of Bowerstone could only dream of such a fine life in this estate and he would make it come true for them. He turned around to leaver, and heard a faint click from behind, but decided it was nothing, but the movements of Mister Reaver or his servant. Before the loud bang of gunfire consumed the entrance hall to the Reaver Mansion, Barry had let out a loud snort, causing Philip to glance back and see the Mister Reaver with his gun pointed right at him. Philip took a few quick steps and be the time his hand was on the knob to the door the gun was fired.

Mister Reaver looked back at his Servant and with a voice of indifference he muttered, "Clean up that mess, Barry. The put your britches back on we need to take a walk. I'm feeling faint from the reek of injudicious decisions.

Reaver left the front hall and went to the festivities that lurked in his dining hall, where Barry had spent much of his night putting the contents of all his bottles away. He was a generous man and people just did not seem to understand how truly caring he was and when he did not get what he was owed then sometimes matters had to be taken up a notch. Philip was not the only one to come in and dare to be brave before Reaver, and he most certainly would not be the last. Since he had debt on the brain he figured he should go grab a few important papers and claim what was rightfully his. Several bodies were strewn throughout the dining room and he stepped over them with grace and he couldn't care less if he accidently kicked a few a few of them on his way through.

Once everything was taken care of he went back to Barry- who was now fully clothed and holding a blood-soaked rag. Reaver told him to drop it and leave it where it lay so they could go out. The papers Reaver held were contracts, one belonged to Philip Nash, and he would go in and evict his poor little family and take the house to sell, because he doubted it would be worth more than what the man owed him. "Eight hundred coins, Berry," Reaver sighed to his servant who was walking right at his side, as he handed off the contracts, since he had a servant to take care of such tasks.

"Quite a lot, Mistah Weavah," the man replied, now in the middle of juggling the rolled papers.

The men walked around the lake along the path and saw that at one of the local homes another party was taking place. Reaver's had ended some time ago and the bodies littering his floors would have to be the next big project for Barry to clean up. As they drew closer to the house they saw three figures sitting near the path. One further up the hill than the others, but all three faces watched the men pass and Reaver did enjoy the chance to parade himself around with his head high and hat even higher. He even noticed the usually slouch and improper servant straighten at the sight, and did not fail to hear him grunt out, "Ladies," with his heavy-breathed voice. Reaver let out a single, "Ha" before stopping to converse the women.

"Good evening, Ladies. It seems as if tonight will be positively delightful for a small stroll about the lake." Reaver stated, placing his cane on the ground just to show that he owned a cane, because he never actually used it.

"Indeed it is, Mister Reaver," one of the woman stated and she let out a fit of stifled giggles.

Reaver thought these women were fine and all; he wasn't picky, not really. No. He wanted to know who that girl was standing aside staring at them as if some sort of spy, even though her attire told all, she was from the higher class and she was just being a scout like most of the persons in Millfields were, as they stood watching so they could run off to tell tales later. . "May haps you wish to join us?" Reaver called back to her. She just stared with a look of confusion. "Yes you girl. I see your eyes traversing over our beings."

He noticed how it took her quite some time to reply and wondered if she were not just shy. He supposed if she joined them, then Barry could have his fun and what not, because he saw his servant watching her with his mix-matched eyes filled with untainted yearning. Finally, the girl stated, "No. I must stay and tidy up from this day's festivities!"

Reaver saw Barry's head drop, but his gaze did not, Reaver walked on and the women stood and followed after him, while the servant watched the girl run back to the house, after she looked back one last time. "Come on, Barry, no need to gawk at the night air when we will be enjoying it soon enough."


	10. Darkness Comes for Albrecht

Chapter Ten; Darkness Comes for Albrecht

It had gotten dark, just before they managed to make it to Brightwall. Albrecht had stopped Busty right when the sun had hit the tops of the mountains in the distance. Of course he could not tell her it was because of his fear of darkness that they stopped, but he had come up with a pretty convincing argument about how they were both tired and should rest before they take on a big challenge for that crazy little man from the dweller camp. Busty had sighed with relief, to his surprise, but his plan had worked and he hadn't had to embarrass himself in front of the girl. 'As a grown man you aren't even allowed to be afraid of gunfire, so what makes you think you can be afraid of the dark?' Albrecht had thought.

Busty had curled up underneath a tree. At first she had tried to imitate him by leaning up against the trunk for support, but found that was more uncomfortable than lying down on the cold ground. He had taken his favorite pair of spare trousers and placed it beside her head and after a while he noticed her head had found its place on the pants for a make-shift pillow. He had wanted a nice rest as well, but as soon as his eyes closed he felt as if he could suffocate on the darkness. He'd never had problems with the darkness behind his eyelids before, only that from the lack of sun or in dark tunnels- which he was glad that the tomb and caves following it had been pretty well lit for being places that one would consider to be naturally dark. 'You are thinking too much on it," Al thought. 'It's starting to consume you with fear, because you keep thinking about it!'

From her spot Busty yawned and turned over onto her other side and was now facing away from him. "Look at her lying there with not a care in the world," a voice hissed. No, it wasn't one voice, it sounded almost like a small choir of voices singing into his ears. "She will only slow you down."

He jerked away from the voice, when he turned around he saw that it was only the tree behind him. He was quite sure it was not a wolf either, because he did not think they could talk and even if they did, did they sound so terrifying? Busty let out a small utterance of something he didn't catch and he heard the voice attack his ears again, "Just put her out of her misery, Albrecht. You will be a hero. You will be _The Hero_."

"No, no! I don't know who you are or where you are, but she is helping me and I will not let anything happen to her." He felt almost nutty for talking to the empty night air, but something had spoken to him first. His eyes flickered back over to Busty, but she was gone. In fact he could not see anything, now. It was completely black everywhere he turned his head, at least he felt like he was turning his head, but to see it would be the proof.

After a moment of total fear he saw a light in the distance and got up slowly, not feeling the ache of his limbs as he had been since he awoke in the marshes with no memory. The light drew closer, or rather he drew closer to it and saw Busty standing right in the middle of it, and her eyelids were mostly closed as if she were still sleepy. "Ayleth!" he shouted, trying to snap her back to awareness, but something dark landed on her shoulder, it was a hand and it belonged to the slender figure beside her. A second hand came down on her other shoulder, also belonging to yet another lanky figure. They were whispering just low enough that he may have passed off the sound as the wind blowing, but he heard them! "Let her go!" he called out.

One of them replied with a chuckle and stated, "He did his work. He got his hands dirty. Big deal. We all must play our assigned roles. We will have a nice burial for him when we return home."

Albrecht stared at the figure, they were a silhouette and thanks to that he could not make out its appearance, but it definitely sounded like it was a man. The other figure waved one of its hands as if to dismiss the other's statement, but it remained silent. His eyes went back to Busty who was swaying in their grasp. "Busty... who are these men?" Albrecht asked her, softly.

Her head began to tilt forward and something resembling a curtain fell over her. With its appearance came the disappearance of the two figures. The curtain was now suspended over Busty's form and it was still, as if there was nothing underneath. Albrecht fingers lightly stroked the fabric and it crumpled to the ground with his touch, revealing the emptiness where the girl had been prior. "Ayleth?" he tried again to call her. There was no answer, and had he really expected one? "Busty! Where are you?" He continued to call until his chest felt heavy. The small amount of light he had been standing in was waning. He couldn't breathe, even though he had been in an open area the walls were closing in. When had it gotten so frigid out?

Something grabbed him by the arm and his body twisted in protest, a small feminine voice whispered, "Albrecht... Al, please, wake up. You are having night-terrors. Wake up, Al."

Slowly he raised his eyelids and saw Busty's face contorted with worry, something he had yet to see from her and it made him smile. The girl's face relaxed when she saw this. "Sorry to worry you, Ayleth. I guess I fell asleep and started having nightmares. I thought I was still awake."

The girl frowned at him and her brow was creased, he wondered what he could have done now to deserve such a heated look. "Please, call me Busty. I already told you this."

Albrecht shook his head. "I apologize, but at the same time I feel like Busty is not an appropriate name."

"Why not?" Busty ask as she leaned back, now that her concern for Albrecht had completely subsided. Albrecht cursed at himself for stirring up a tiff as soon as the girl had felt something besides anger at him. Even if the walk down the mountains had been pleasant enough, they'd still had a row or two over who should kill the wolves until Busty would raise her gauntlet and cast fire down upon the poor creatures.

He moved his hand to his head and ran his soiled fingers through the graying mess, trying to construct a way to break it to the girl. The idea of just pretending it was nothing also crossed his mind, but it felt it was better he tell her than some random perverted man down in Brightwall. "That name is in regard to something physical. Something large...Well two large somethings."

The girl watched him with confusion. "I don't think I understand..."

Albrecht really did not feel it was his place to spell it out, but for her, he was starting to grow weary that he may have to. The girl had grown up without a mother figure, so he'd taken from the context of the tombs, where the two sarcophagi rested. "It's your bosoms, Busty! That man in Dweller camp was trying to tell you how big they were!"

He watched her as her face drained of all its color and her head bent forward as she looked down at her chest. "I... I thought it was... like I would bust the heads of my enemies..."

Albrecht reached out and touched her shoulder; he cringed at the flashing images of the two figures from his nightmare, but gulped down the feeling and tried to give Busty as fatherly a look as he could muster, since he was not a father, at least he did not believe he had been before he lost his memories. "It's alright. If that is truly what you want Busty to mean then let it be so."

The girl gradually nodded her heard. "Thank you, Albrecht. You really are too kind you know. Still I want to apologize for everything from earlier."

He let out a faint chuckle. "I just don't want my fellow hero to be put out by something as trivial as a name. Now, do you think you are rested enough to head the rest of the way to Brightwall?"

"I suppose I am as ready as I can ever get."


	11. Into the Woods

Chapter Eleven; Into the Woods

The foul smells of the sewer were enough to leave Wynter with a spinning head. She'd arrived in Bowerstone Industrial and spent half a day's journey just trying to find someone who would give her even the slightest glance. She wasn't sure why her presence seemed to make them residences avert their gaze as if she was a walking taboo. On several occasions she passed by posters with the face of Mister Reaver and every single time it sent a cold chill through her as she thought about his little henchman who had given her the creeps during both encounters she had with him. However, all that was behind her just like Millfields was. She had been on the bridge staring into the dark waters when a man came up to her asking if she could spare some gold coins. "I don't have any," she had said. "I am just a traveler on my way to Mourning Wood."

"Maybe for some coins I could tell you where it is."

Wynter stared the man down for a good full minute. "Do you not understand I have no gold?"

The man had shrugged. "I'm sure you have something I could sell?" His eyes traced the choker on her neck, then the dog by her side. "I don't see many of them doggies around here. It would fetch a good price."

She looked down at the top of Sir Stewarts head as he sat and breathed heavily as he was known to do. "I cannot let you have him. He was a gift."

The man scratched at his dirty head and finally let out a sigh. "Fine, I will show you to the sewers. It goes straight out to Mourning Wood."

"Sewers?" she stated. Soon enough she had been shown the entrance, which was little more than a hole in the side of a brick wall. It was dark and damp inside. The waters which ran through it were only ankle deep, but it smelt so foul she let out a few hacking coughs before entering and the man bidding her a safe trip.

Sir Stewart trotted along up ahead sniffing the random piles of mud and other dark substances. She was not sure how long she walked before the light at the end of the tunnel appeared. It was a dim light, but that was better than nothing, she told herself. Her dog hopped happily at the exit while she exhaustedly came up behind him. Wynter had never walked such a long distance with no breaks, but she had wanted to get to Mourning Wood as fast as possible and here she was!

The exit of the sewers was atop a hill and down in the little basin below were several houses raised above the soggy ground. Bridges only a few feet off the ground made paths from one building to the next. There were platforms of wood with barrels and boxes on top to keep them from getting damp. The people of this small place were dressed as if they wore whatever they had found in the mud that day. At least she had that in common with them. "We made it, Stewart," she stated to the pooch that stood with his mouth open and tongue out. "I'm glad you seem to have adjusted to the odor so quickly."

Wynter descended the hill and everyone out and about was talking and smiling despite how ran down everything appeared, but to them this was life. She scolded herself for being spoiled with her life at home and then with her Uncle. She knew her parents had sent here there so she could find a husband with great wealth so she would be financially sustained, but all the men in Millfields were twice her age and snobbish. She'd often thought about what the men in Bowerstone Industrial were like since they had to work for their money, and she had found out and noticed they all seemed too busy to talk to anyone. While these people were all slowly wondering around and stopping every so often to talk to someone who was passing them. It seemed to be an equal balance and she admired that.

She walked through the center of the wood and surveyed the place she would call home. Before she could stop to say hello to a local, Sir Stewart began to bark and he leapt off the wooden path and took off toward a row of ruined pillars. Wynter took off after him to stop him from getting lost in the surrounding forest and marshlands. The dog had a little too much energy, she thought. Her jog was barely doing enough to catch up to her canine friend. "Sir Stewart! Come back now!"

He had stopped, but he was still away ahead and behind a pair of arches. He let out a loud bark and she staggered the last few steps before stopping to rest against the post. "You wild thing! I can't have you running off on me like that again. You need to learn to stay with me. It is dangerous in the woods." She thought about the women hanging in the trees, forcing a terrible tremble out of her. "I hope you understand."

Sir Stewart let out a grunt from his long muzzle and his head turned back and this was when Wynter noticed the floating silver key. It was letting off light and it dangled in the air, she waved her hand over top it as if to find it attached to a string. Nothing was there as her hand chopped the air. "You found a treasure, Stewart!" This was a smart dog she had on her hands and she noticed the way he opened his mouth as if to smile at her for his praise. By the by, Wynter had her attention back on the key. Her hand came in close and fingers curled to take it into her hands, but what to do with it once she held it? Possibly, she could return to Bowerstone Industrial and sell it off for a fortune, then use the gold to help her new home.

Despite the woman's previous pleas Sir Stewart let out a loud howl and bounced around before taking off again. She watched him take off around a bend and completely out of sight this time. She opened her hand and stared down the silver key as if it were the objects fault her dog had gone mad. Nonetheless she had to get going after him before he got injured and killed. She wasn't going to pretend she knew what was going on in the dogs mind. Perhaps this was the reason why Uncle Arthur had refused to take the dog hunting; it was hyperactive and would run off if given the chance. She took the bend and saw several paths branching off the one she was following. Stewart was nowhere in sight. Wynter gave a low whistle to call the dog back, but heard nothing but the sound of the air whistling through the leaves over head. She took the path to the left and it lead down to where a wall was built of wood to keep the earth from falling in, like a trench. She placed a hand on the wall and looked up at where the ground really was passed her head. She withdrew her arm thinking about it falling down on her.

All around her the air had grown chilly and the sky had actually gotten darker. It had not been so late when she got to Mourning Wood so what was going on? If it were going to rain then she would need to seek some shelter soon. She let out another whistle in hopes that the dog would hear her this time, but instead she heard a whistle as if in reply. Then, the whistling continued and she noticed it actually had a tune to it. Someone was near and she could ask them if they'd seen a dog run by. As she walked through the trenches she noticed the whistling growing louder. She pressed her back to the wooden wall and slid over until she saw that up a small hill was an area that seemed rather open.

"Captain Finn!" a voice suddenly cried from a direction unknown.

It was answered with a similarly loud voice, asking, "Can a man not relieve himself in peace?"

There was a chorus of laughter and someone called back, "You need any help, Sir?" This was followed by even more laughter, but it grew quiet once more, almost as fast as the yelling had began. She looked around wondering where the voices had even come from because she saw no one and no sign of anyone having been there. The whistling suddenly started again.

She came out of the trench and into the open where rows upon rows of headstones greeted her. The chill wind swept through and toyed with her hair while she stood immobile staring at the numerous graves. Not too far ahead she noticed tracks in the dirt path, not sure what to do now that she was dog-less and in a cemetery Wynter shuffled forward until she was standing over the tracks. It was more like two parallel forced indentions and she placed one foot over one line and the other likewise. She moved over the tracks a few good feet before something red moved in the tree line ahead.

This had been a stupid idea, she told herself. _You are a fool for coming out this far for a crazy dog. Your Uncle was playing a joke on you for giving him to you; he knew he'd drive you insane_. She felt her hand draw closer to the handle of the pistol, which may not work, if she remembered her Uncle correctly. The red thing vanished behind a tree then appeared again, before once more going behind the tree. The whistling was loud now. Was it a person only dressed in red or some sort of monster?

Slowly, the pistol was raised and she held it right in front of her chest with both hands clasped around it. The thing in red made it's finally appearance before it stepped off from the hill it was on and she saw instantly it was a blonde haired man. Apparently, the man instantly noticed her standing there with a gun pointing at him so he jumped back and put his hands up. "Well, if I had known using the loo in a cemetery was wrong, I would have held it in a little longer."


	12. Loveless Hero

Chapter Twelve; Loveless Hero

Busty had taken roost on a wall inside of Brightwall. The palms of her hands were pressed up against her cheeks and her elbows were resting on her knees. Albrecht was not too far off playing a lute, as they tried their best to scavenge up enough money to buy some tattoos for the man. Busty had spent a little over an hour rolling out pie crusts and being harassed by the stall women telling her she couldn't cook. It was true; Busty had never attempted to cook. Of course not. She walked over to Albrecht and had thrown the little gold she had earned into the up turned hat which he had gotten from the drunk man in the top of the bar where Walter had met them with information on the mercenary camp.

This was where things got complicated and held the explanation as to why Busty was sitting away from the crowd whilst her fellow hero was working hard to get a completed costume so his cover would not be blown when he infiltrated the camp. Walter had been laughing and having a quick round with the older hero and they were talking all buddy-buddy as if they had been friends for a long time. This had been rather irksome for Busty and she was a little jealous that Walter would rather play her long lost father than best friend. In what Busty would only describe as a fit giggles Albrecht had brought up that Busty had a "someone" and Busty felt her face grow red in the instant. How dare he bring it up! She narrowed her eyes and looked away from the men and Walter began to laugh.

"Oh, she must'uh been referrin' to that boy Elliot!"

Albrecht had turned to her then with a waxing smile and wriggled his eyebrows.

It took a few minutes for her to stop being angry and to start feeling a pain in her chest which could only be love sickness. It felt as if ages had passed since she thought about Elliot and should she not feel guilty that she hadn't? A few moments later and Albrecht had told her the plans for them to raise money and now she was back to square one in her thoughts on what she would be doing while Albrecht took care of the "manly" business.

Busty had not noticed when Albrecht quit his job for the time being. He trotted over with his hat in hand, the money inside of it jingled merrily. "I hope you are hungry because I made sure to get enough to pay for some dinner."

"That's too bad you wasted your time and your pointless strumming talent, because I am not hungry." She lowered her hands from her face and interlaced her fingers over her knee caps. "Have fun with, Walter."

Albrecht frowned and placed the hat on the ground by her feet and then sat next to her on the wall. "Are you still mad over that?"

"I'm not mad."

The man snorted. "You are kidding right? I may be old and I may be a man, but I know that you are not happy. So... if you aren't mad what are you? Lovesick?"

Her cheeks turned red again and she lowered her gaze to the stone path before them. "I miss him... I really do."

Albrecht's arm snuck around to her far shoulder and he patted it gently. "I'm sorry. If it helps you feel better, I don't even know if I have someone I used to love."

Despite how badly she wanted to be mad at Albrecht she felt a little sadder than before. How hard it must been for Al not having memory of anything that happened the first thirty some years of his life and then being told he needed to save a country he couldn't remember! She chanced a glance at him and saw he was leaning back and staring up at the sky with the corners of his lips turned up a little. It was like he wanted to smile so badly, but couldn't follow through completely.

"It's hard. We've both gotten our share of problems and I suppose we just have to learn how to get passed them."

Albrecht gave a curt nod. Busty felt as if she should nod back, so she did.

The man leaned toward her and whispered, "You want dinner now?"

Busty really did not feel very hungry. She'd had an okay lunch and she didn't want to spoil herself with more than a meal a day since she could never be sure when he next meal was. Or maybe she was only trying to pity herself since no one else was. It wasn't fair to Albrecht of course and despite how often she had told herself she was a women and she needed to grow up she couldn't get the hang of it. But can anyone grow up in such a short time? She told herself no and felt a tad better. "No thank you," she finally said. "I hope you do well on your mission in the Mercenary Camp. Be careful, Al. You're the only friend I have."

"Maybe I'll get hit on the head and remember something," the man said with the same hopefulness she always noticed in him.

She smiled and gave him a quick peck (signifying she cared for the man) on the cheek before standing up. "I think I'm going to rummage about the library a little more. Maybe explore the underground ruins so I can shoot things."

They had went underground in the academy and Jasper had cleaned up the sanctuary only to find some special weapons, Busty took the pistol and Albrecht had been giddy to get his hands on the rifle. Not only that but Busty was introduced to melee weaponry and fell in love with a large hammer. Albrecht told them he didn't plan on using the sword, but took it anyway.

It took Al a second to pull himself together after what Busty had done and said. He gave her a quizzical look and wondered if she weren't going mad. Busty did not fail to notice and she turned away so she couldn't see his eyes, but she could still feel them staring at her from behind.

An hour later Albrecht had went on his way and Busty stayed in Brightwall. Walter had not thought she was emotionally ready to handle such long fighting after she got upset when he mentioned Elliot. She hadn't seen Walter since they had met up for lunch and he and Albrecht had talked.

In her mind she could see Elliot beaming at her and his eyes held such care and love. His hand on her face as he seemed to lean in closer only made her flush and think about her first kiss and then the sudden departure. Busty's head was spinning not. She left the musty academy and walked out into the town now settling into dusk. Many of the children had disappeared as had many of the women. Some of the men were still trying to sell off last minute goods. "Flowers!" "Perfumes!" "Get your ale!" She passed them and their cries out onto the bridge.

The bridge sort of scared her. It was high above the long drop below. It was broken and seemed like it was likely to crumble. Some of the safety walls had taken a tumble, as well as the ground. It was a sight to see someone in almost all white standing near the middle of the bridge and gendering over the side as if they could possibly see the ground. She would have taken a peak but was too weary.

The figure shifted and pulled something from just inside their overcoat; they took it out and pointed over the wall and downward. Suddenly an ear piercing bang exploded from the small instrument and echoed as it travelled just underneath them. Busty had jumped a foot and stared at the figure as they replaced the instrument, most likely a gun after hearing what she had. They turned just so that she caught a glimpse of dark hair and nothing more before turning completely in the opposite direction and began to walk the remainder of the bridge and to solid ground. Her heart was racing now and she wondered if it were not from being so high while also being terrified by the gun shot. Maybe she was feeling a thrill of the stranger who dared to pull his gun out and shoot where he pleased. She shook her head. It wasn't that. Elliot would have never done such a thing and that's why she liked him. Right?


	13. Mercenary Al

Chapter Thirteen; Mercenary Al

"Here you are again, Sir," Albrecht murmured into the darkness, but there was a glimmer of hope when he saw that he could see his breath. He was alone now and he supposed he had taken Ayleth for granted when it came to her company in the last few evenings. Even in the ruins of the academy he had to be strong because it got dark in some of those small passages. There was no more fire power.

Albrecht wasn't sure if he had even had sleep since he got to the castle a few days ago. When he'd had that terrible nightmare where Ayleth had vanished and he felt utterly alone. It was strange, however, to not be having that same feeling of loneliness while he travelled now. He made his way up the trail and turned around one last time to see Brightwall.

It was funny how in a few steps there would be snow on the ground. The golden trail he could see proved most useful given his current circumstances and he wondered why it was he could see it but so far it never led him astray. Several times he'd used it when they'd gotten lost as they had searched for the relic, which in the end was a music box. Ayleth had taken it to the sanctuary and there it would remain until they went to show it to Sabine. That crazy old man.

Rather than going up toward the mountains that were littered in the cold white stuff Albrecht found himself being lead away from those mountains and he was travelling down a path toward a body of water. He couldn't help himself when he got onto his knees and began to dip his hands in the pool, then he ran the water that didn't escape through his fingers over his face. It was cool. Chilling as well, but it felt so nice. There was no time to dawdle though, so he stood back up and went on his way along a dirt path. "Sort of makes this a little too easy," Albrecht told himself.

Was he really going to be able to just stroll in with his disguise that he'd stolen off an unconscious man? He remembered the good laugh he got out of it afterward when he had changed clothing and gotten drinks with Walter. The older man had been so much nicer to him at lunch and Albrecht wondered if it weren't just because he was intoxicated. There was no time to worry about that now. There was a small earthy "bridge" that dipped into the water. Albrecht stepped into it, the water up to his knees when he stood in the middle. As he drew close to the large wooden posts a man on top of an outpost called out, "Jimmy? Jimmy, is that you?"

Albrecht nodded hesitantly. To relax his nerves he imagined how it would have looked to send Ayleth in, rather than himself, she would waltz up with her hips swaying, because of her strange –maybe royal- swagger that she had. How anyone would mistake her as a man would be beyond belief.

He tilted her head forward so the man was not able to get a direct look at his face. "It's me!" he called. There was the possibility that this was a mistake, because what if he didn't sound like Jimmy?

"Hold on a minute then. I open the gates for ya."

Albrecht was ready to thank the man, but would Jimmy thank him? He decided against it.

The wooden gates began to drag roughly across the dirt with a jarring grunt as if it protested. With the path open, Albrecht stared back into the Mercenary Camp as it stood decorated by flags with red birds. On the stumps of fallen trees there were men sitting about with short swords in their hands, but they did not turn on him in hostility as he passed. Several of them whistled at him and called out his name. Well, Jimmy's name. Up the hill he crossed the path of two men to themselves. One of them looked rather rugged and extremely tired. The more chipper of the two let out a howling laugh. "Aye! Jimmy come over here!"

Albrecht's feet dragged the ground while he shuffled forward. The one who had called for him placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke loudly into his ear, making him go rigid. "Hey, Jimmy. Show 'im that thing you do."

"Thing?" the tired man asked.

The chipper man nodded, but it was more like his head jerked diagonally. "Yeah. You know the thing you always do Jimmy. Show 'im."

Albrecht stared at the poor man who looked worried, and his dark eyes went from Al's sword to his gun. Was he going to have to shoot him? He walked forward and felt chipper man's hand fall from his shoulder. He approached the man with as much caution as he has through the entirety of the camp thus far. He bit his lip wondering what it was Jimmy would do. The only thing he knew about that man was that he was a heavy drinker and he was sure chipper man did not expect him to drink a bottle of ale in front of tired man.

Strangely enough an idea came to mind. Al leaned forward and planted a kiss onto the tired man lips and before he could pull away tired man had already yanked his own head in the opposite direction and he began to vomit profusely. The chipper man let out a loud guffaw. "That was great Jimmy. Better than the usually! Look at him toss his soup."

That was enough of that, Albrecht thought and he headed on his way. It was darker than when he'd initially arrived and would only get darker. "You've done good, Jimmy," Al told himself as he continued.

It had remained well all until he made it to another barricade where there was a man on each of the posts lounging on either side of the gate. At first they did not say anything as he approached, but suddenly one of them sat bolt upright and stated, "Who are you?"

Al stared up at them. "It's me... Jimmy."

The other post keeper cried, "No you ain't. Jimmy has eyes that shine like the very stars themselves. I don't know what you think those pits in your face look like but it ain't stars, sho' nuff."

Albrecht flinched at this. Given away by his eyes in the middle of the night? Jimmy's eyes must have been magic. The sound of a gun being fixed up to shoot made Albrecht's tense nerves could not fail him now as he reached into his own holster and whipped out his own gun. With trembling hands he tried to point it up to the man on the left post and he shot him right between the eyes and this got the disapproving grunts of the men he'd passed a moment ago who were beating up each other. Before they could get to him Al shot the other man in the opposite post and the gate dragged itself along and he squeezed through before he was barely large enough of a gap for him to get through.

The chase was on and Albrecht did not care so much about taking care of the leader as he was just surviving long enough to return to Brightwall where maybe he would play the lute for a living. He zigzagged around the few men scattered in this new area and let out a few warning shots, but even while several of them were wounded in either their legs or arms they continued to pursue him up the hill. He took cover behind a red barrel and began to shoot off a shot or two before squatting back behind it. One of the men let out a bark of "Shoot the barrel!"

Albrecht knew it probably would travel through the wood and hit him and where it would hit him he couldn't be sure be sure so he started to crawl away from the barrel on his stomach, but someone fired and the whole thing blew. He turned his head back and saw the large fire eruption. Albrecht felt something heavy hit him in the face, but had not even registered anything flying toward him. He felt himself grow exceedingly tired all of a sudden...

When he came to he felt the sting in the middle of his face and something wet running over his lips and down his chin. He blinked more times in one minute then he ever had in his whole life as he tried to get control of his eyes, which seemed to have obtained a mind of their own. The ground under him was wet and cold and his arms were folded in his lap and something kept dripping onto his thumbs. His vibrating eyes managed to glance down at his hands which were covered in blood. His face was bleeding. He reached up slowly to feel where it was coming from, because he couldn't feel anything from his neck up.

"Well, look at what he have here! What's your name?" A strong voice asked.

Albrecht's eyes drifted where they willed and fell upon the second largest man Al had seen so far, comparing him to Boulder from the dweller camp. He couldn't make out his face very well for it looked like a white smear against the contrasting dark sky. "I'm Al," Albrecht gargled out. He felt himself spit up the blood that had pooled inside his lip.

"Hello, Al. I'm Captain Saker. I have just one more question for you. What brings you to this camp?"

What had brought him there again? He couldn't have forgotten that right? He was happy he'd remembered his name though. "I'm not sure. I was supposed to do something."

Captain Saker pulled a large cigar from his breast pocket and put it in his mouth before lighting it and taking a long and heavy drag. He blew the smoke down on Albrecht and made the man cough. "Probably to cause trouble since you seemed to have stolen Jimmy's clothes. I think it would be best if I put you out of your sad little misery. You aren't looking to good, Al"

Albrecht felt his fingers twitching under his nose. When one of his digits touched the tip of his nose there was a flare of pain that reach all the way back into his skull. "I have to finish my mission. Whatever it is." The words came hissing out.

"Then get up and fight me."

Albrecht shook his head. "I don't remember what my mission is. It may have nothing to do with you."

In the back of his head a voice whispered, "Kill him, Albrecht. Rip out his spine and take over the mercenary camp. You can be their captain." Was that his mission? He would be the new leader of these men in mix-matched garb.

The captain pulled out a bottle. Albrecht's eyes had finally begun to settle and everything looked like recognizable objects. "You seem to like explosions." The man lit up the top of the bottle and then threw it at him, but Albrecht in a swift motion jerked to his right and did a flip just as the bottle hit the wall he'd been propped against. It exploded as was expected.

"I don't want to fight. I just need you to..." Albrecht got onto his feet and wobbled a few steps forward. His head hurting as he tried to remember. The voice in his skull continued to tell him that he needed to kill Saker. That voice sounded so dirty he couldn't possibly be listening to it.

Albrecht pulled out the sword he still had sheathed at his side. His rifle was not on him. He ran to the man waving the sword more like a mad man than some Hero. He managed to cut the man across the arm. Saker growled and took a swing at Al, who ducted and did a roll. When Saker looked like he wasn't about to deal another blow Albrecht ran back up and swung again. The voice in his mind buzzing as it chanted, "Kill him. Destroy him. Make him bleed."

Everywhere Albrecht jumped about there was a trail of blood following him. The many slashes that were adorning the Captain were a good indication that it was not just Albrecht slowing bleeding out. Saker was wobbling as he pulled out another bottle and lit the end, tossing it toward him, Al took his sword and moved his hands to the blade and used the hilt as a means to knock it away. Saker's dark eyes grew large as the bottle hurtled right back at him. Exploding in his face and making him fall back.

Albrecht dropped his sword and felt the small pain of the cuts he'd just given himself by grabbing his sword by the blade. The Captain was still breathing, but his face was now as bloody a mess as Albrecht's had been when they started. "Stop... Please. I'll do what you want."

"Finish him off..." the voice shrieked, but Albrecht couldn't. He stared down at the man and slowly offered him a hand to get off the ground, even if the man could easily yank him down.

"I need you to leave the people of the dweller camp alone. Please."

Captain Saker nodded. "You fought well. Even when I had an unfair advantage. You're letting me live. I admire that. I promise, Al." The man took his hand and shook it, but told him to let him lay there a little longer.

Albrecht smiled at him before he began to limp back to Brightwall.


	14. Fort Mourning Wood

Chapter Fourteen; Fort Mourning Wood

Wynter followed the man through into a run down and moss covered fortress as soon as the two were inside the walls men in uniforms instantly were up and barricading them in. Wynter stared, taken aback. "What's going on? Am I being held hostage?"

The man she'd followed just chuckled. "Not exactly. You probably don't want to go out there on your own now. It's getting late and we were sent here because of a certain Hollow Man problem."

"Hollow Man?" Wynter asked.

She wasn't given an answer. The man took his hand and offered it to her like he wanted to shake and stated, "My name is Benjamin Finn, but please call me Ben."

She watched him. Her hand slowly travelled toward his and instead of a shake he snatched up her hand and pressed his thin and chapped lips to the back. Wynter had had many suitors in Millfields and she hadn't come all this way to be chased by another, but there was something about his ruggedness that seemed to please her, as opposed to the always clean cut and homogeneous men in the rich section of Albion. This man was different. His face seemed a little asymmetrical but then again no one was perfect.

"I'm Wynter," she finally said.

"Like the season? Because that is lovely! I do like the season of winter." Ben smiled at her and had yet to separate his hand from hers.

Wynter managed to pry her hand away and she nodded. "It is, except spelt with a 'y' instead of 'i'."

Ben continued to watch her with his deep blue eyes. He suddenly let out a cough as if to disrupt the silence that had come upon them. A man with a large and very distinct mustache approached them. His eye brows were knit together and his eyes narrowed and his mustache covered most of his lips so Wynter assumed he was upset. "Captain Finn. It's about time you arrived. I was told about you relieving yourself in the cemetery. I didn't realize a girl would come of that." The man glanced at her up and down. His voice was calm, so that had to mean something good.

"Funniest thing really," Ben replied. "She's a wood imp if you can believe that."

"No. No I don't."

Wynter felt herself growing nervous wondering about what was going to be done with her. The mustachioed man told Ben to go help someone named Jammy set up the mortars. Then, after Ben left, it was just her and the man. "I'm Major Swift. I used to be at least. I'm not sure what I am anymore after getting sent here." He watched her with ebony eyes that had a soft glow. "I don't know what brings you're here either, but it's probably safer if you stay here the night and I will have someone escort you back to where you're from in the morning."

Wynter pressed her lips together. She wasn't sure how to respond. "Thanks," she managed to say. "I hope I'm not a burden. I was chasing my dog you see..."

"Dog!" Major Swift exclaimed. He turned away and walked off leaving Wynter there alone in a stupor.

Several men passed her by and all had to take a look to see if there really was a woman in the fort and Wynter was starting to figure that this really hadn't been a good idea. Major Swift finally returned with familiar dog following behind him happily yapping. "Sir Stewart!" Wynter called and took a few steps to meet her canine companion. Sir Stewart jumped up and placed his front paws on her legs and let out a low whine. "That's right. You know what you did."

"I thought he seemed like an outstanding dog with a name like Sir Stewart." Major Swift squatted a little and the dog jumped over to him and the man rubbed him vigorously behind the ears.

"I suppose he could be if he didn't run away."

The night fell upon them hard. Wynter had spent the time until then sitting on one of the small cots. All the men there were extremely nice to her. None of them knew she was from Millfields so it wasn't because they thought she would give them anything. Supper was served and it was nothing but bread and cold soup. She tried her best not to frown or make any other sort of distasteful face during the meal. When Ben was done with his devices he joined her on the cot and it squeaked in protest as he sat down. "How was your day?"

Wynter shrugged. "I can't complain. Nothing bad really. How was setting up the mortar... whatever that is?"

"Nothing you need to worry about. Swifty told me you were being sent back home tomorrow. So, tell me, Wynter, are you from Mourning Wood?"

She could tell him where she was originally from she thought. "Brightwall actually."

"You came all the way here from Brightwall?" he spat out some soup, wiping it on his sleeve.

Wynter shook her head. "No, I was setting up in Mourning Wood. Then something got into my dog and he took off. I followed him to where I ran into you."

The man's face turned a little red. "Oh yes. I remember that much from today."

"Sorry, I did not mean to embarrass you." She smiled at the face he was giving. He looked like he wanted to hide.

Ben rolled his eyes playfully and set his tin cup on the ground. "Me embarrassed you are kidding right?" He puffed out his chest. "Captain Ben never feels emotion."

Placing her plate on the ground like Ben, Wynter shook her head. "You are lying to me then. You seem awfully happy and if I am not mistaken that is an emotion."

Ben snapped his fingers. "Darn, she's found me out."

The next hour or so felt as if it were just Ben and her sitting there watching the stars slowly begin to sprinkle into the sky. A man named Simmons had came over and told them that the tent materials were all ready for them to grab so they could have some covering in case of impromptu rain. Ben told her not to worry about it for he would gladly go and get her tent. He came back with an armful of material and a few poles and stakes. "I'm a little hesitant to tell you this, Wynter, but it appears that there wasn't an extra tent for you." His eyes drifted toward the ground. The young lady just waved that away.

"Don't worry. It isn't your fault. I'm sure no one was expecting an extra person to show up."

Still, the man seemed to try to apologize and she would have it. He grinned when he questioned. "Maybe I could share my tent with you? It gets really cold when you sleeping so it could actually be the best arrangement."

Ben taught Wynter how to set up a tent and theirs was the last to get pitched while all the other men had already finished and gone to bed they were laughing under their breathes as Wynter struggled to hammer the stake in straight so that it would pull the fabric just so it was taut, which prevented it from sagging on them. Wynter saw nothing wrong with sharing the tent, but when it was all finished and done, Ben made it apparent that there was only a single blanket as well. "I'm afraid I am not comfortable with sharing that," the young lady mumbled.

The captain bit on his lower lip for a moment in thought. Slowly he began to nod his agreement. "So sorry I did not think this through. I will let you have the blanket. Just roll up in it and rest easy. I'm a strong man. I shave my face against the mountain sides. I can sleep in the cold, no problem. None at all."

Wynter smiled at him and chuckled slightly at his statement about his facial up-keep. She felt herself settle into the tent and under her blanket. The warmth from Ben behind her felt strange, but she was too tired to think much of it. Her eyes closed and she fell into a heavy sleep, until the warmth grew into something unbearable and it felt like Ben was nestled right against her back. She turned over to tell him that she did not appreciate this treatment when he agreed to let her have the blanket to herself. Instead she was looking down at Sir Stewart stretched out beside her and Ben was on the other side of the dog, resting on is back with his arms folded over his chest, which rose and fell rhythmically. Her stomach suddenly did a flip as she realized what she was observing and she had to question why she had given it so much thought. He was not her type. They had just met. She took in a deep breath and laid back down trying to go back to sleep. She lay on her side facing the tent side.

Morning came with the sudden shouts and calls from Swift's men preparing for a day of waiting for Hollow Men, and Wynter still didn't know what those were. She noticed that she was the sole occupant of the tent now. It took her a while to finally wake up enough to crawl out of the tent. Her whole side was dusted by the dirt flooring she'd slept on. Looking around she saw that Ben was over at one of the barricaded windows hammering some boards up with the butt of his gun. Wynter wandered over to him. "What's going on?"

Ben looked over his shoulder. "Had a few hollow men outside the windows this morning so we are fortifying the fort a little more. If you haven't noticed this place is a little run down."

"Hollow men... What are those?" Wynter asked, hoping to get an answer this time, but this time it wasn't Ben ignoring the inquiry, it was Major Swift calling Ben over.

"I'll talk to you later. If someone comes to take you back to Mourning Wood, come see me before you go. Could you?" Ben gave her a look which she would compare to a saddened puppy, even on his mountain shaved face.

Wynter promised.


	15. An Evening with Busty

Chapter Fifteen; An evening with Busty

She probably shouldn't have followed the figure across the bridge and after that when a frantic woman approached her with tears in her eyes and a rag doll in her hand came up to her and begged her to find her little girl, Busty should have said she couldn't do it. Except she couldn't find it in herself to tell the poor woman no, so, she ended up having to follow the figure all the way into the region of Mist Peaks so she could go into one of the caves after the woman's child. The woman had seemed quite sure that's where her little girl would be and Busty had almost been ready to berate her for allowing her to wander off so often- apparently.

The figure was strolling ever so nonchalantly and it was only now that Busty saw the cane they were using as they walked. Should someone adorning a cane really be roaming around in Mist Peaks? "Excuse me, Sir! Busty called out after thinking about the wolves which she'd fought when travelling down from the Dweller Camp. She also said sir, because she was quite sure that this person slowly strolling along the path was a man, though she'd seen nothing of his face and they had yet to speak.

The man did not stop but he calmly stated, "I am terribly sorry, but I am not looking for company tonight. Kindly leave me be."

His voice was rich and every word made her ears twitch in anticipation to hear what was to follow. "I'm sorry to bother you only just I don't think you should be walking about in the dark."

Her fears were soon raised when from behind one of the trees and a cluster of bushes, a wolf sprang out as the man passed by. It was behind him and Busty was ready to pull out her pistol, but before she could even finish the thought a gun shot fired and the wolf did a full flip and landed on its head, neck cracking as it twisted under the pressure. The man had been able to turn completely around and pull out his gun then fire all before Busty could think to even grab her weapon. How had he even known it was there?

As if assuming some sort of hero's stance the man held his gun up just so that it pointed toward the night's sky. His head was cocked back and his tall top hat leaned gracefully to one side of his head. "I do not need company. Are you hard of hearing?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'll leave you to your business then."

"Indeed," was his final declaration before he took off down the path again, going in the opposite direction of the Mountains.

Busty's eyes continued to watch the man as he vanished amongst the trees. It took a while for her to let it go that the man could take care of himself, obviously, so she tried to get her quaking heart to slow down before it exploded in her chest. She couldn't put her finger on what it was that caused her to respond in such a way, she didn't seem to feel scared or worried. Thrilled, yes, that was the right word. She walked over toward the carcass of the wolf and saw the clean shot right between the animal's eyes and the man had not even had to aim. It just happened.

Slowly, she was walking back down the path when it came to her attention that she had yet to find the missing little girl which she had promised and leaving a helpless child when she had spent the last hour following behind the man who did not even need help. She took off at a sprint and spent the next hour trying to find the opening to the cavern where the girl may be hiding.

Inside the caverns, it was like another world. Every breath Busty took showed just as white as the snow and ice surrounding her. She was in perpetual winter here and it was taking a toll on her skin, she was turning purple and her skin was so bumpy from all the goose-pumps. She noticed strewn across the path were rags and torn clothing. Hopefully she had not arrived too late. Small openings that looked like dens to some sort of monster were seen here or there.

At one turn she walked and heard a low howl before a bone fell from overhead. Her eyes searched the ceiling of the cavern and she wondered if she were not going to have to fight giant man eating bats. "It would be like back in the catacombs. Only they'd be giant bats."

Busty continued going the only way she could go down. It wasn't long before she heard the low sniffling of a child. Relief stricken, Busty jogged the rest of the way to the child who was standing in front of a few shelves with several old toys strewn across it. Did the girl get toys and come here to put them away? She quietly approached her.

"Hello there," Busty said.

The girl looked at her and her little face brightened. "I was so scared. Are you here to help me?"

Busty nodded and smiled. "You're mother is very worried about you. You shouldn't have run away like that."

The child let out a giggle. "I come here all the time!" she seemed over proud of this statement.

Busty sighed and held out her hand for the small girl to take. "Hold my hand and I'll lead you out of here no harm done. Alright?" The girl reached up and wrapped all her fingers around two of Busty's and the young woman was leading the child out, but nothing was ever so easy was it? Busty thought when from one of the dens came a wolf and then another wolf until there were four. She told the girl to stay back while she pulled her hammer from off her back and began to swing madly and violently. Two hits each and they were down completely and Busty felt powerful after each one fell.

The girl let out a cheerful cry of excitement. "Yay! You saved me!" Busty rolled her eyes and let out a hot breath. The girl ran back to her and took up her hand again and they begin back up the hill and out of the tavern, only running into another pack of four wolves before they successfully were out of the caverns.

Mist Peaks was just as she had left it when entering the cave and Busty lead the small girl down until they were heading down to the Brightwall Bridge. The mother to the girl was still pacing back and forth in front of the crumpling bridge and the little girl let go of Busty's hand before dashing down the remainder of the hill and to her mother who got onto her knees and holding the girl tightly and tsking her gently in her ear.

Busty approached and stood a few feet from the pair, looking out at the bridge and trying not to act like she'd done anything heroic. The woman beamed up at her and Busty saw where the girl got her brightness. "Thank you so very much! You saved me little girl! I'll make sure it never happens again. I promise. If only I could repay you."

For some reason, Busty felt like she'd already been paid, she wasn't sure with what or why she felt this way, but she did and she accepted it for just having the feeling. "Don't worry. Just keep an eye on her."

After this Busty wasn't sure what else she could besides go back to the bar and see what Walter was up to. She'd avoided him completely since lunch. She supposed that was rather childish and made her way across the bridge she so despised, but the sooner she got things done and the sooner Albrecht managed to make it back from the Mercenary Camp then the faster she could get back over the bridge and be away from Brightwall and maybe she'd never return.

She went toward the bar and up the steps to the top loft where the old man had been spending most of the time since he returned from getting information on the mercenaries. The door was open and the light shone outside and the soft hum of whispers greeted her before she was at the top of the steps. Once she was at the door she peaked inside and saw Walter sipping on a pint and leaning back in his chair forcefully enough so that the front legs of his chair were off the ground. Maybe now was not a good time to talk, if the man was drunk, it would be no fun to speak with him.

The man cocked his grey brow and looked over at the door when she started to mumble to herself about how stupid she was being. "Stupid," the man said.

"Yeah," she replied and stepped through the doorframe.

"Ayleth, you need to quit being so down on yourself. Elliot wouldn't want that now would he?"

Just like before, Busty's face when red in the cheeks when she heard Elliot's name. Would she ever forget the terrible night? How long had that been? A week or something close to it.

Busty walked to the table and sat across from her almost father. Walter smiled at her and stared at her with his knowing eyes. "What's on your mind, Love?"

The girl scratched at her head. "I have had a lot on my mind, but not much time to think until today with Albrecht doing the mission while I just sit around here." The man didn't say anything so she sucked down a breath and started again. "I miss Elliot. I'm sure I do, but something makes me ask whether or not I really still have those feelings. Could I have fallen out of love so easily? I stopped thinking about him until recently when you brought him up."

Walter let out a loud snort. "Oh, Ayleth! Is that all your little head is worrying over? It's just as you said; You've been busy and unable to think about the lad. There are bigger things to think on now a-days. Don't worry about him until you cross that bridge and see him again."

"So, you think he's still alive?"

"Aye," Walter reached across the table and placed a reassuring hand on her smaller hands. "You're brother, his tyrantness, had him booted from the castle, that's all."

Ayleth found herself smiling again, a real smile. Not those pretending to be okay smiles which she had caught herself doing more often lately. Now, she just had to wait a little longer for Al and they could get closer to stopping her brother. Get closer to finding Elliot.


	16. He Struggles

Chapter Sixteen; He Struggles

Albrecht wasn't going to be able to make it back to Brightwall in one go. He needed to take a break. There was a cabin not too far ahead. All the mercenaries were gone, either Saker had already sent the word out that Albrecht was not to be messed with or they had just left, he wasn't sure which one, but he hoped either way he could find something to rest on. _I'd better hurry though before I pass out, _he though gravely. He dragged himself up the two steps and through the open threshold. There was a small desk with a piece of parchment and some writing utensils. There was a bed against the far wall. He groaned at he bent down and rolled onto the mattress. His whole body was one giant ache.

His nose hit the pillow and caused the unbearable pain it had earlier. It was definitely broken then. He twisted and maneuvered until he was situated on his back. His spine tingled, but nothing to make him worry that he may lose the mobility of his limbs. Albrecht for once felt like he could rest. He'd have to apologize to Ayleth and Walter when he could move and walk back to the town. For now he'd rest.

In his dreams there were two men sitting at a long table, one way to long for just two occupants, one at the right end the other right opposite him. Could they not have come closer? He was sitting directly between them on the south side of the table. His head bouncing back and forth between them as they spoke in hushed whispers. It was funny how no matter how hard he stared at one figure he could not make out their face. It was almost like when he watched Saker and saw nothing but a smear in the sky. Likewise these two were blurred beyond human recognition. The only thing that helped him figure out anything about them was how one seemed to sway rhythmically from side to side as if listening to music only he could hear while the other was sitting stiffly and so straight every angle of his form was perfectly ninety degrees. Al could not understand a single thing they said because they spoke so quietly it was like tiny murmurs for themselves, so how were they having a conversation? Or were they even taking to one another. Suddenly Albrecht found his body shake and stand knocking the chair he'd been in backwards.

The crash was not just in his dream; Albrecht heard it outside the cabin. His eyes popped open in the moment of surprise. He sat up and curled his fists, not like he could get in any good punches, but it was worth a try. At the door stood a stranger in a white suit and top hat, his eyes narrowed as they landed on Albrecht's. "My my, fancy meeting you here."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think we've met prior to this..." Albrecht said, his voice told how much he was struggling to breathe the words.

The man pointed the end of his cane at Albrecht and closed one of his dark eyes. "I apologize if I am mistaken, however, that's simply impossible, since I am never wrong."

Albrecht shifted and had his back against the wall and his feet were now on the ground. "Well there is a first time for everything."

The man's lips pursed in and with her dark eyes down to slits now he did not appear to be too happy. "Maybe if I just," before he finished his sentence his cane reached out and pressed against the side of Albrecht's nose. While the man was gasping at the sudden pain in his face the other man slowly pressed on the poor nose until it popped (Albrecht assumed it had been popped into place). "There we are!" the man exclaimed. "I was not sure if you were who I thought you were with your nose all disheveled and what not. You don't look to well my old friend. What a momentous occasion it is for us to meet!"

Albrecht had bit his lip trying to forget the blinding pain from his nose and focus on a pain somewhere else. He noticed he really could not see much of anything now. The room had gone completely blurry. "I don't know you. At least, I don't remember you."

"How positively terrible! I was so good to you and you run off and forget about me so easily?" He heard the man say.

He also made out the sounds of footsteps and worried that the man was about to pop his nose out in the opposing direction out of spite. "I'm sorry. I don't remember anything-"

The man cut him off. "Perhaps that is for the best."

There was silence for a moment and Albrecht realized that the man had left. How had he not recognized that he was gone? Al got onto his feet and felt himself involuntarily sway off balance. He hit the wall and continued walking raking his shoulder over the splintered wood.

"Ayleth," Albrecht had said her name nearly a hundred times as he walked through Mist Peak Valley. He had began his trip leaving a dark red smeared trail behind him, but looking now he saw that his nose had stopped dripping and the only sign he'd come through was the line that showed his leg had rake through there. "I just need to tell Ayleth."

Why did he suddenly feel as if he were a dying man? He hadn't felt this bad before he saw the stranger now he wanted to think it was all over. It was getting light and he was grateful for that, since he hated the dark so much, but he found he had been beating that fear.

"Ayleth will make a better hero. You should just give up" that same dark voice that had been plaguing him whispered in his ear. "She's better than you old man. She's young and full of spirit. You should just give up now. You've done your part. Give it up!"

He glance back to make sure that man wasn't behind him, but there was nothing but trees. His back popped from turning his torso and he had to admit it helped significantly. _I can't stop. I've done so much. _He walked until he had hit the trail back down to Brightwall. The bridge looked majestic in the light of dawn. That was cheerful. Al limped the remainder of the way slowly drawing closer and closer. Merchants began to call out their wares as everyone rose and began working. The open gates into town made Albrecht think of a painting except all the subjects within the frame could move. He chuckled and found that it hurt his chest, but he didn't care, he had made it back! Ayleth had probably found a room for the night or she and Walter were discussing the next plans. He thought about the girls preferred nickname, Busty, and had to laugh a little more.

Once he was through the threshold into town he was greeted by the gasps of villagers and one of the guards ran to him and asked if he needed any help. "Yes, I need a lot of help actually." Al's smiled seemed to scare the man back a few steps however. The guard told him he'd call for the aid of someone with any sort of medical expertise. "That is not necessary sir. I just need my companions to come out here."

"Nonsense, you look ready to keel over any second!" The guard walked off somewhere and Albrecht collapsed up against the bench in the center of the town's entrance which was surrounded by stalls and the bar. The guard returned a minute later with a bottle in hand, it was blood red and he forced it to Albrecht's lips. "Take a sip, Mista'. It's bound to help."

Finally, after a small fight, Al took a drink and found that the pain in his head was receding and the ache in his arms and legs also waned. "Thank you so much."

The guard sighed when he saw the new energy spark to life in the crumpled man. "Don't mention it, just be more careful. Maybe it best if you stay in town."

Albrecht got to his feet, still a little dizzy but he wasn't hurting. He went to the bar and travelled up the stairs to the second floor. Inside he saw Ayleth asleep with her head in her arms as she was lying across the table. Walter was on a chair next to the banister overlooking the bottom half of the bar, a mug in his hand. "I'm back."

Walter's eyes snapped to his direction and he jumped up, walking to Albrecht and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Welcome back, Al. We were getting worried. Those mercenaries can be a rowdy bunch that's for sure."

Albrecht nodded. "It was something. I took care of Captain Saker. He promised he would not bother the dwellers. He's on our side."

Walter's eyebrows rose immensely. "You didn' kill him?"

"Why would I do that? He promised."

The old man looked uncertain. "I'm a little worried that this may not be the last time we hear from him then."

"I don't think you understand. He made a promise."

Walter shook his head. "I can promise you marriage, but that don't mean it'll happen, Al."

From the table they heard the faint mumble of "Albrecht?" Both the men looked back and saw Ayleth waking. "You're back!" she exclaimed suddenly, when she full awoke. "Al!"

Albrecht began to laugh again. "Did you both think I had died?"

"Didn't know how long it would take. Thought it would be as short a time as going to the Reliquary."

"There was only one of me at the camp though and I had a few accidents, but it's alright. Saker was pacified and I made it back in one piece. At least I think I did." Albrecht glanced at his hands and counted each finger. "Yeah. All one piece."

Ayleth got up and walked toward him and gave him a stern look. "I don't care what the next mission is. We are going together. I think worrying is worse than losing a finger."

The man grinned. "Alright. We better go meet with Sabine and tell him everything is done."

Walter grunted from his side in confirmation.


	17. Learning to Aim

Chapter Seventeen; Learning to Aim

If not for the incident that morning Wynter would have been at her new house in Mourning Wood. If not for the incident she would not be sitting on the stone steps of the dilapidating fortress for the second day. Ben sat besides her holding onto a lute- which he'd taken from one of the other men- and he was plucking one the strings a little absent mindedly. It had seemed as if he felt like the Hollow Men outbreak had been his doing, but Wynter knew it could only be some sort of terrible darkness that could cause such evil things to thrive. Her chosen escort had been the man Simmons, the same man who had talked to them the night before. As soon as the boards were off the exit and the two began their journey, with Sir Stewart following behind, these lights which Simmons commented as wisps appeared. The wisps sank into the dirt and up sprang the skeletal remains of who knows. Wynter had pulled out her Uncle's pistol, but Simmons told her to get back to the fort. She had refused at first, shooting the creatures with shaking sweating hands. She got two or three. Simmons yelled at her again to flee. She obeyed this time and didn't see him again until several men were out surveying the grounds around the fort and found the man's fallen body. He'd been a rather heft man, but much of him was gone. Wynter had gone stiff and soon her eyes flashed back to the night which made her leave Millfields in the first place- The women who'd been maimed.

Ben looked over at her and she just watched him. His lips slowly moving to recite these words, "My face against the mountain side/Rugged stubble chin/I am a man of great complexion/ And the women/ They do love the Ben Finn."

Wynter's gaze turned into an unbelieving stare. It was like he'd just recited a bad bit of poetry. On the one hand, he may have thought it was good poetry, on the other he may have been trying to cheer her up. He stayed quiet for the moment and she didn't know what to say. After a while of what felt like the longest awkwardness between them Ben began to pick lazily at the strings once more.

"Thanks," Wynter said after he continued his lute picking.

Ben turned his head sideways and looked at her. "For what?"

Wynter's face when a little red. Had she thought wrong in assuming he was trying to cheer her up? "The poem."

"Oh, yeah. I thought you looked like the type to enjoy poetry. I like to write. I used to keep a journal, but all the pages fell out."

His ruggedness had deceived her, she admitted. He did not look like the type to keep a journal, not that Wynter knew the kind of man who would. "That's really interesting." If it were not for the biting ache in the back of her head, she would have been smiling a lot more and trying to be friendlier, but it was hard to be happy about seeing three dead people. She placed a hand on her thigh where the pistol rested in its holster.

The man at her side suddenly stood up and pulled out the rifle from off his back. "I have a wonderful idea."

"Really?" Wynter stared up at him with uncertain eyes, but the man was beaming now. She stood up and followed him as he walked up the steps to where the mortar was set up.

Jammy was at the mortar sitting dangerously on the edge of the dilapidated wall. He was indeed a lucky man because he looked ready to pass on at any moment. His face was half obscured by bandages, as was much of his body. "Ello, Captain Finn, Sir. Ello Madam."

"Hello, Jammy," Ben replied.

Wynter curtsied and said hello.

"Are there any Hollow Men out there, Jams?"

The man got up, making Wynter nervous that he'd topple backwards off the side. Jammy pointed out toward the evident war zone. "I see three on the left an' five on the right. Want me to use the mortar?"

Ben shook his head. "No, I'm about to teach Miss Wynter how to aim and shoot."

Wynter felt a sudden bit of energy again. She had felt so gloomy and lethargic, but now, she felt a bit of excitement. "I'd really like that."

Ben turned to her and winked, before handing over his rifle. "I think you may want something with a bit more power. Though, a pistol would shoot further. What am I kidding; I just want an excuse to give you my gun." He grinned at her cunningly with the rifle reaching out toward her.

Slowly, her hands grasped the gun and she pulled it toward herself. It was a lot heavier than a pistol, that was for sure and Ben was nodding his approval. "It looks good on you."

She looked down at the way she held the gun against her chest, like she was cradling an infant or an animal, or something or the other, but she didn't see how it "looked good" on her. "I don't really know how to hold a gun like this. I believe that I barely know how to hold my pistol and it's a quarter this size."

Ben placed a hand on her shoulder and his eyes locked with her. It was like they were about to share a memorable and affectionate moment, all up until Ben stated, "That's what I'm going to teach you, Woman."

A little caught off guard, Wynter shook her head and felt the loose curls bouncing over her neck, and this also seemed to catch Ben's attention as he began to chuckle softly. "What's so funny?" she asked, hoping he was not just laughing at her for what she'd said earlier.

"You're hair is so funny."


	18. Going on the Monorail

Chapter Eighteen; Going on the Monorail

She heard the hurried breathes of the man behind her, and if not for that then she would have forgotten that he was there. The entrance to the monorail underneath the Mist Peaks were so massive and open that it made her feel like she was the only one left in existence. Busty had watched Albrecht glance at his bare and callused hands. She wished she knew what he was thinking sometimes, because of his constant twitching and the way his dark narrowed eyes would shoot around. She had not been aware of this until that other night where he had had something like a nightmare. The man hadn't seemed the same since. He wasn't as full of life as she had remember him to be the first night, then the second day he was a little more calm, then by this day he seemed to be moving sluggishly and like he was close to giving up. Was the man sickly?

He had been made to go off to fight at the Bandit Camp single handedly and when he returned he'd been quieter and it had made Busty feel a little saddened that he hadn't even shared a good laugh with Walter before they departed. The only thing that had changed his mood (if only for a moment) was going around getting some respect from the citizens. Albrecht had dressed up in a chicken suit while she chased the chickens back to their pen. The man had been thoroughly tickled about the whole affair and Busty was glad. Then they had helped find a play and had been sucked in by a mysterious force. Al had seemed distracted this time, as he sat in the front of the audience while she acted out scenes to the worst drama/comedy/history ever created.

There was nothing but the echo of a rocks sliding from their place on the side of walls. Busty jumped and soon she was surveying the area with great integrity to make sure the walls were not about to give in. She turned back to look at Albrecht and noticed the man was just standing there staring at the ceiling and mouthing something silently to himself. "Al? Are you alright there?"

The man did not say anything and his eyes lingered over the high stone ceiling above them. Busty stayed her distance; he did not look well at all.

"I can't…" he mumbled, finally.

A darkness seemed to be present even beyond his already dark grey eyes. His eyes suddenly fell upon her. For a moment they were completely still, both of them. They each stared unblinking like something would happen if they moved. Something terrible.

Busty was the first to react, but it took everything in her to say, "Al?"

She couldn't see where he was staring anymore as his heavy brows shadowed his eyes. There was something about not knowing this man's past which frightened her. He was a stranger and because he'd told them that he was a hero they were all just okay with him tagging along? She was wondering if they had been too accepting of the man who was lurking in the catacombs that sad night. The night everything had seemed to disintegrate around her. She could just leave him there. Could she?

Finally, he stated, "Ayleth, I'm sorry." Slowly and shakily his hands reached around to the gun on his back and pulled it over his head and pointed it at her. Busty stared down the barrel of the gun with her fear for him distinguished and the fear for her own life flaring up. She quickly thrust out her arm and smacked the gun to the side and Al let it fall with a loud and metallic clank on the rock floor.

"What are you sorry about? Huh, Al?" She was growing furious. She reached behind her own back and pulled out the large hammer. "You could have had me fooled about being sorry! You had us all fooled! Thinking that you could just come out and say you were some sort of hero. Waiting for us to all trust you so you could kill me! What are you? Some sort of assassin sent to kill the princess?"

The man watched her and the darkness behind his eyes had vanished, but still she felt unease. "No, Ayleth. I think it is time that I end my journey with you."

Busty was confused. "What are you saying?" She curled her hands into fists and got ready to use the power of fire if the case arose.

Albrecht's lips were down-turned in a frown, an expression that did not suit him and also was no what she was used to seeing on him. "I don't think I should continue going, I helped you get this far and you're a smart girl, Ayleth. You're young and you are more capable than I am in this state."

It was strange how her feelings changed just as Albrecht's had. She no longer wanted him to leave, not when he was just giving up. Had he aimed at her with the gun to shoot or was he just going to drop it in front of him and walk away. She let out an angry groan and punched the nearby rocky-wall. "You can't just quite, Al!"

"I believe I already have," he murmured and turned away.

Busty watched him saunter back up the tunnel toward the entrance where they had just come. She stared with her lips slightly parted, as if she wanted to call out to him, but why should she? _Curse the conflicting feelings! _She scolded herself and frowned with all her might and forced the tears to hurry out of her eyes, because she wasn't going to cry about someone she'd only known for such a little time. She should have been feeling this way about Elliot! Why had she not lamented about missing Elliot yet, but just as soon as Albrecht, the man she'd known for only a few days (she continued to remind herself of this short time) she wanted to cry her eyes out.

"Fine! Run away you big coward! You don't deserve to be a hero!" She screamed at the top of her lungs and heard it echo all the way down the path. She wiped the tears with the crook of her elbow and started back toward the Monorail, where Walter was surely waiting.

Indeed he was waiting, and he looked a little worried. When she approached him he asked her, "Is everything alright?"

Busty just stared at him with large red eyes as if the question were absurd. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

Walter lowered his eyebrows; it was his turn to look confused. "Don't you think everyone heard your little screams?"

If her emotions were not already out of whack she would have felt embarrassed, but right then all she felt was cold and smothered even in the vast area of the underground. It reminded her of the Reliquary. It made her think of Albrecht and suddenly she was crying again, but this time it was just the salty drops running down her flushed and dirty cheeks, she didn't feel anything. "I was upset. Let's just get on with this."

Suddenly, a loud grinding noise filled the entirety of the cavern and the men and women waiting on the monorail all began to congregate around the gate. Walter stood from his perch on a bench and began to walk, but the slow hum of the large machine turned into a shrieking loud enough to bloody anyone's ears. "That can't be good!" he cried as he took off at full speed down to the gate. He forced himself passed the mass of people and Busty followed in behind him.

"What just happened?" He asked, watching the large box dangle overhead.

It was rocking back and forth, and not that Busty knew anything about mechanics, but it didn't look like it should be shaking the way it was. Finally, it fell.


	19. Knee Deep in Sewage

Chapter Nineteen; Back to Knee Deep Sewage

Of course he did the right thing. Right? At least he thought he had done the right thing. It was hard with some much being uncertain and he didn't want to leave anything to chance. Not with other people depending on him. Ayleth was a young girl and had so much to live for, and he would not allow himself to be the one to end that short life. It bothered him that he may be going mad with the constant thoughts of darkness telling him to end himself or end the young girl. His head was in a relentless fog missed with darkness in every corner that was steadily creeping in every time the sun set. Now it was coming whenever there was a shadow within a close enough proximity.

He set off down the hill and looked both ways for random bandits or wolves; seeing no sign of either he started walking again and let his hand drop from their poised position at his waistband where his pistol rested.

_Where do you think you are going? _came the familiar, but almost long forgotten voice of Theresa in the back of his mind. He had nearly forgotten she had started this journey of his.

"I can't continue, Theresa," he replied aloud. Not sure how to answer. Maybe if he simply thought the words?

_I do not need excuses. You are a hero, Albrecht. You need to continue. You must help Ayleth and the other hero."_

Albrecht rolled his grey eyes. "I don't think you understand. How could you. You aren't a hero. The other hero can help Ayleth." He walked a few more steps and soon found his vision growing hazy. He glanced around only to see that it was getting thicker and the tree limbs overhead were also vanishing.

From the fog a dark figure stepped forward and Albrecht quickly pulled out his pistol- his hand still as ever. Theresa's red attire made its appearance and Albrecht let out an annoyed breathe. "Thanks. Now I'm stuck in foggy land until I learn my lesson?"

Albrecht saw the gates he and Ayleth had opened and the chests they were to collect seals for. He had a good amount from getting Saker, but since he no longer wanted to be a Hero he had no use for them.

"You need to drop this attitude you have stumbled upon. Why the sudden change of heart, Al?" Theresa asked softly.

Al stared at her for a long time. He was slowly placing his pistol back in its holster. "I don't want to turn on anyone. I don't think you're aware, but there something in me… Something dark. I thought it was all just some sort of bad dream until it persisted to tell me to kill myself and Ayleth."

Theresa's blind eyes were on him, he could not bring himself to look into those bright eyes. They knew things. Why could she not just tell him? "There is darkness, Albrecht. You have the will and strength to push it aside."

"No, I don't."

Theresa paced away and Albrecht followed her to an unopened chest. "This is the power of lightning. This will be your will. With it you can face the darkness."

Albrecht stared at her, but she wouldn't say anything further and he placed his hands on the chest lid and it opened instantly with the satisfying sound of a slight hum. He watched the gauntlet rise with a circular badge of blue. It fit perfectly when he was able to place it on his hand and clench his fist. Theresa watched with silent approval as he summoned the bright lines of electricity. "Thank you, Theresa."

"Do not thank me. You earned the seals to open the chest," Theresa whispered.

Albrecht nodded. "I guess I should go help Ayleth."

Theresa shook her head. "I have other plans."

His head was spinning and his eyes hurt, but eventually he came to his senses and everything fell into place. His legs were wet, he noted. Looking down he noticed that his britches were soaked and the water was up to his knees. His brows creased. He figured his time in nasty water had ended long ago; after becoming a hero did he really have to tread in foul muck?

The scenery was all too familiar and Albrecht was wondering why it was he was back at square one. There was no time to ask such questions however as something very boney and mangled came sauntering from around a bend in the path ahead. Albrecht smiled and lifted his gauntleted hand. "Let's see how this plays out."

From his fingertips a steady stream of white light crackled and hit the beast until it crumpled. Albrecht surveyed his hands with a gratified smirk. His rejoicing was cut short when several more stacks of bones came shambling along. Albrecht let out frustrated grunt and shot another bolt. Then another. After the last one fell, no more came sauntering around the bend and Albrecht took off.

It took several minutes and he came into the center of a cemetery. The path split and he glanced around to make sure that no more skeletons were making their way after him. He walked up a hill and saw the ugly falling visage of a building. Someone then began screaming "Kill it!" just as he was making his way down the slope.

Someone else screamed, "It's a man. Not a hollow man!"

"A Hollow Man? Kill it!"

"No, it is not! It's a normal man."

This was answered with, "Oh , then we better not kill him."

Albrecht had frozen at the idea of being killed. Once they stated they better not he began his descent again. He made it to the boarded entrance or exit and saw the many faces of weary men. "Can I come through?" He looked to his feet and saw the sparkling of the golden trail. He was supposed to enter.

A man with an impressive mustache appeared and stared at him through one of the openings between the boards. "State your name."

"Albrecht," was all he could think to say.

The mustachio raised his brow. "What's your business?"

Albrecht didn't know what his business was. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to just walk through or stay and help. "What's yours?"

The mustache glared. "We are here on duty. If you are but a civilian I advise you return to Mourning Wood."

Albrecht felt his face grow red. "Um, what?"

Mustache sighed and stated, "Go back to your little village."

"I need through. I don't live in a village." Albrecht had to look away, because the constant dark eyes on him were making him nervous. "I just need inside."

Mustache turned away and let out a string of instructions earning disapproving groans from the other men behind the boards. Reluctantly they all began to pull the boards down starting from the ground up. By the time it was to his waist they told him to crawl in. Once in the instantly went back to putting up their blockade. Albrecht's eyes traced over the trail again and noticed the lights going to a set of steps. The Mustache was watching him. Should he just head on up the stairs or should he talk to the obvious man in charge first? Luckily, the man called for someone named "Ben Finn". From the steps came two persons. A man and a woman and Albrecht noticed that the light was circling the both of them. Was this rugged man with the rifle strapped to his back the other hero! There was hope yet. Until the man walked toward Albrecht with an extended hand and the circle stayed positioned around the slight female holding a pistol like it was poisonous.


	20. The Stranger

Chapter Twenty; The Stanger

His eyes were bright and his hair was dark, but the strands of grey that ran through those locks helped brighten the man's appearance; even if it was only a little. Wynter wondered why it was he was staring at her like she was some sort of beast, his eyes were wide and stared so intently, and she finally shuddered her way behind Ben's more bulky form. It only proved to more intimidating because Ben was tall, but this stranger was taller, thought a little more lean, Wynter felt like he was a giant and was still watching.

"The name is Benjamin, but please call me Ben," Ben finally stated, his hand which he had held out to be shaken returned to his side. "What's yours?"

The man rubbed the side of his nose with his pinky and did not make eye contact. Wynter was peaking around Ben's shoulder and noticed something like a shadow swim over the man's eyes, but she shook it off as paranoia. "I'm Albrecht. I came from... The wood of mourning," he stated hesitantly.

Ben glanced over his shoulder at her and gave her the most confused look she'd ever seen. She shrugged and pulled herself forward to his side. The pistol in her hand she held more firmly than ever. There was that awkward moment that always seemed close by, again. Ever since she had left it seemed like she had lost all ability to talk to anyone. Slowly she had managed to get comfortable enough with Ben to have small conversations about this and that. It was rather hard to find things in common when surrounded by Hollow Men in a rundown fort.

Wynter stepped up and gave a small curtsy. "I'm Wynter. The dog running around here is Sir Stewart and he belongs to me."

The man, Albrecht, turned around in search of a dog, after catching sight of it he turned back to Wynter and Ben and said, "Seems like a silly name for a dog."

"My Uncle named him and he is a rather silly man."

"Perhaps you could make his name easier. Call him something like, say, Stew."

Ben let out a chuckle and folded his arms. "Like the food, eh? Is someone hungry?"

The man shrugged. "I'd say I am actually. I haven't been eating much in the past couple days. I think I may be staying here longer than anticipated."

Dinner was served and the stranger known as Albrecht join Wynter and Ben on the crumbling stairs. The pair who had known each other longer was side by side on the small platform half way up and Albrecht was two steps below with his legs stretched long ways. His make-shift plate was on the step above where he was sitting. Wynter wasn't sure why she felt like she knew this man. Not in the friendly sort of way, but like some sort of acquaintance she had met a long time ago. He didn't seem to look familiar. He just seemed so.

Everyone once in a while during their relatively quiet meal, Jammy would respond to Ben and everyone in the general vicinity appeared to get a good laugh out of it, except for Albrecht. Wynter didn't like the way he's grey eyes lingered in her directions, from the angle they were both currently set, she was unable to deduce where exactly his eyes watched, but she knew it was close enough to her to make her feel uncomfortable. After another long moment, Wynter leaned into Ben's ear and whispered her plans to go up toward the mortar with Jammy. The man had looked a little confused after opening his mouth to speak, but finding nothing to say he nodded.

Jammy's appearance was still a little strange to take in. He certainly had to be lucky to survive all the obvious injuries he had sustained. "See any Hollow Men, Jammy?" she asked once at the top of the stairs and on her way toward the large mortar.

The man's bandaged face turned to face her. He gave a smile. "None. It has me a little on edge really. Thinking about how they might be out there amongst the trees and all that."

Wynter scanned the tree line failing to see any movement or anything white like bone. Every time she thought about those monsters she had to wonder about those poor women. Had Hollow Men done it? Was there a more fantastic and shady beast that could have possibly done it? She didn't want to think about it, but at the same time these things were real and she was going to have to deal with that fact. Looking down at the steps she noticed Albrecht had moved from his step over to Major Swift at the far side of the Fort. Ben was with him and they were chatting persistently. She was skeptical of the man. She did not know what he stated his business was, but she didn't believe him not matter what he could have said. If anything, he reminded her of a less ugly "Bawwy"; she believed she remembered that name right.

"When do you suppose you men are getting out of this little fort?" she asked

Jammy's good eye moved back and forth behind its bruised lid. "I'm not entirely sure, but I sure hope it is soon. We don't have nearly enough supplies for more than a week or so. I am not exactly certain about the reasoning for us being here either." He paused. He looked at her. "Why are you here?"

"I was one my way to Mourning Wood and my dog took off into the marsh, swamp, or whatever it is and then he proceeded into the cemetery where I heard you all moving into the fort. I should have been out of here by now, but those blasted Hollow Men."

They took some time to reflect on the events, since they really hadn't had much time to before. Wynter had planned on resuming her conversation with the mortar operator, but Ben was standing just below her calling up. "Want to help forage for kindling?"

Wynter peaked over the edge. He was smiling and he pulled his hand up and moved his hands just so, in a way that it looked like what would be a tiny gun. "You can be a look out. I have faith in you." He tilted his "gun" back and made a "pew" noise. "It'll be fun."

She smiled. "I'm coming."

Had she known that Albrecht was going to be beside her the entire time they watched out for the Hollow Men and whatever else there could have possibly been, she would have disagreed to the exciting tinder hunt.

Both she and Albrecht had been entrusted with the weaponry. Well, the other men all had weapons, but since they were bent over grabbing branches, they couldn't see if anything was coming in time to pull out their guns. So, it was up to her to stay poised and ready with her pistol. She noticed that even though he had a rifle on his back and a pistol on his hip, Albrecht wasn't bothering with either. Instead his gauntleted hand was constantly twitching. There was a blue emblem on hit just above the wrist with a zigzagged line going down the center. He glanced over at her forcing her to quickly turn her head.

Ben was in the middle of the field with his rifle out.

Nothing was happening.

"Wynter, was it?" Albrecht asked.

She jumped. She had almost forgotten he was there. They had been standing in such silence for such a long time. She had been watching Ben march back and forth for the last ten minutes. "Yes. Albrecht?"

"Right," he replied. "Have you heard of the Heroes?"

Wynter shook her head slightly. "We sure could use some around here though. Things haven't been right." She flinched a little when she realized what she said. She didn't need to tell this man anything.

"What if I told you, you were a Hero."

"I'd call you stupid."

Albrecht didn't seem to take any offence, he stated, "You aren't some generic any hero. You are a hero that will help change all of Albion." From somewhere off his person he retrieved a disk.

Wynter nearly fainted when she saw the emblem. "That matches…" Her hands went to her neck and touched the very emblem it resembled. "Who are you?" she demanded. "What do you know about me or my family?"

Albrecht was shaking his head. "I don't know anything about you or your family. I don't even know about myself. I just know I am a Hero and so are you. I was sent here to retrieve you. We have a lot at stake. If we don't work fast then Albion may be ruined."

Wynter's eyes lingered over the disk a little longer. "I don't believe you. And don't you dare follow me!" She felt the anger rising in her cheeks. Her face was probably blotched red. She didn't care. She rushed passed and hurried toward Ben.

"What'sa matter with you?" he asked right when he saw her.

Still angry, she snapped, "Keep that man away from me." Ben snatched her arm, because she had pointed at the stranger using her gunning hand. "Sorry. I'm just really tired. I just wanted to get home and rest without having to worry about everything."

Ben's bright eyes fell to the dirty ground. "I can tell Swift and I can walk you back to Mourning Wood right now."

"Really Ben? You could do that?"

He nodded and turned away. "Yeah. It's no problem."

Wynter felt the anxiety draining, it was a slow process, but it was better than having it all stored up and filling her out from her toes to her head. "Thank you so much." She grabbed his hand (noticed it was rather a small hand). "I appreciate how much you've helped me the last few days."

Ben's face had been scarlet. "It's nothing, really. I swear. I am just that kind of guy. You can always depend on Ben Finn."

Wynter was about to head back down toward the Fort. She noticed that Albrecht was not where she had left him. Ben was right behind her and he didn't seem to notice, but it scared Wynter and her stomach fell at the thought that he would stalk her back to Mourning Wood if she didn't keep her eyes peeled. Ben was curious about the way she moved. She was walking in circles and seemed to be trying to find something. "What's on your mind?"

"Where did Albrecht go?"

"Why?"

Wynter narrowed her eyes. "Because!"

Ben let out a small chuckle. "You are something when you're mad."

She ignored that statement, she only had one goal in mind now and that was to get a home and live there in peace.


End file.
